


Foreign Ambassadors

by Lumicrystalline



Series: HS Space Ambassador AU [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancestor-Era (Homestuck), Attempt at Humor, BACK AT IT AGAIN, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Harem, M/M, POV Second Person, Reverse Harem, Rewrite, Slow Burn, The Hemospectrum, We're space ambassadors, no beta we die like men, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumicrystalline/pseuds/Lumicrystalline
Summary: The Empress of the Alternian Empire has extended an invitation to Earth, and humanity is going to answer it. You, a former space captain and current freelance photographer, have somehow been persuaded to come along on a journey to Alternia with "Earth's finest". The rest of your crew is going to deal with the peace talks and negotiations by themselves; you are very tired of being in the spotlight, and the last time you were in charge ended in catastrophe. As the crew's photographer, your job is supposed to be documentation from the sidelines. That's it.The only problem is that dark and mysterious forces in the Furthest Ring are messing with your life. Trouble in the form of annoying trolls won't leave you alone. A fiery temper and an ingrained sense of curiosity isn't helping your case, either.[Rewrite of Foreign Dignitaries]
Relationships: Troll Ancestors (Homestuck)/Reader
Series: HS Space Ambassador AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663006
Comments: 23
Kudos: 76





	1. Horrorterrors

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of Foreign Dignitaries. I'm gonna break and bend canon a lot, and the plan is to have different endings for each love interest. Thanks to everyone who came here from the old story, your patience is great! I have a way clearer direction now that this is my 2nd time trying to write this fic, and I think this rewrite's gonna be better than the first draft.

#### Reader

The planets of Derse and Prospit had been at war for longer than either of their recorded history. The Prospitians and Dersites, as they themselves told nosy Earth diplomats, were simply created to fight each other. The planet on which their eternal battlefield raged was called Skaia. The black Kingdom of Derse sought to destroy it, and the white Kingdom of Prospit wanted it safe. The two had been fighting on Skaia for a stretch of time human scientists were still trying to guess. The war had been locked in a stalemate for as long as humans had known of it, at least, but that hadn't been very long.

Earth had shared an uneasy coexistence with the two kingdoms of the Incipisphere for only about a hundred years. The White Queen of Prospit had made first contact, followed by the Black Queen of Derse. From the start they made it clear what they wanted from humanity: assistance for one side of the fight.

But the interests of the Kingdoms and the interests of Earth did not line up. Human leaders from all over the globe managed to come together and agree upon remaining neutral in their war. Earth and its people were infants compared to Derse and Prospit, and they had little interest in ownership of Skaia. They wanted knowledge, they wanted to extend their reach, and they wanted to explore the cosmos. On the other hand, the Kingdoms had little concern for what happened outside their bubble of space. Their overreaching goals concerned the welfare of Skaia, though it was tough luck getting any answers out of them as to why Skaia was so important.

Humans feared, and still do, that one or both of the Kingdoms would turn away from Skaia and set their sights upon Earth.

The White Queen made a proclamation in response. "Prospit is not interested in destroying anything," she said. "We have no need to protect Earth, either, if the only enemies humans have are themselves. There is nothing for us on the green planet."

Angry at being the second to act once again, The Black Queen's proclamation was spoken more roughly. "Earth is half-destroyed already. Dersite armies could do a faster job, but there is no reason to send them to your planet. Skaia still stands whole, and that is my only concern. Prospit is destined to lose."

Earth, the humans were reassured, would be left alone because it was not meant to be conquered by Prospit or Derse. The Kingdoms seemed to accept a great many things because they were "destined to happen."

So far, it had been left at that. Humans had been doing well enough of a job in upholding their neutrality that over the last century, teams of explorers and diplomats made regular stops to either Kingdom on mostly friendly terms. It was a rarer occasion that Earth received Dersite or Prospitian visitors.

You had been one such human explorer. Captain of the _SkyLark,_ in fact, with a capable crew behind you and a successful career ahead of you. Humans finally had their answer over whether or not they were alone in the universe, and your crew's task was to go further. Long ago, Derse had introduced Earth to The Furthest Ring, and then immediately ordered them not to enter under any circumstances. It, as they said, was the infinite void outside of the universe, untouched by time and unable to be navigated.

Surprisingly, Prospit backed Derse up on warnings forbidding entrance into the Furthest Ring. Their combined effort was enough to convince humans to explore elsewhere, at least for a while. In human terms, one hundred years was considered a long time. For the Prospitian and Dersite royalty, it was the blink of an eye.

Regardless, one hundred years had passed, and now some high-ranking people from humanity's Bureau of Cosmic Advancement wanted to know what the Furthest Ring was all about. They never said so officially, but you could tell just by reading your mission statement that they thought the Kingdoms only considered the Furthest Ring to be unfathomable because the two planets were too preoccupied with war to learn about it. That was your job. In bold black text, you and your crew were instructed to launch an exploration into the Furthest Ring and determine the possibility that there might be a way through to the other side.

_Finally, something interesting,_ you remember thinking. The forbidden sounded fun. The mission was to be done quickly and discreetly, before Derse and Prospit could find out and make a fuss. On Earth, this was the kind of thing people went down in history for.

It was with a buzzing sense of anticipation that the _SkyLark_ set off. The crew sang, laughed, and exchanged the standard ghost stories that passed through every space crew flying under humanity's Bureau of Cosmic Advancement. To name a few, there were planet-swallowing gods, The Mothman's extraterrestrial cousin, and shadow monsters that could be seen only in peripheral view. Your job had its ups and downs, with one of the downs being Dersite parking regulations, but you loved it. Liking both your job and coworkers was uncommon.

It was rumored that the everlasting war was shifting ever so slightly, making the Black and White Queens restless. They were supposedly directing more attention than ever to Skaia. That couldn't have hurt the _Skylark's_ chances of slipping by unnoticed, but there was only one distraction in place that you knew of. Two assemblies of human diplomats were keeping their respective royals occupied while the _Skylark_ passed. They were trying for the possibility that humans might be able to explore Skaia while also remaining neutral in the war. Before departure, the last you heard was that the diplomats were failing miserably. It was none of your concern at the time; you had your mission, and they had theirs.

The _Skylark_ didn't make a supply stop at either planet as human spaceships usually would, instead shooting through the vast area between them. It was possible that the ship's signal had been detected, but the _Skylark_ was not stopped by an authority regulator. It was not so uncommon that human ships explored the edges of the Incipisphere, but Derse and Prospit were usually mindful to keep an eye out that no exploration teams went _too_ far. After a few tense days where you expected to be pulled over at any moment, the ship finally moved out of range. You'd managed to slip through the Kingdoms' grasp. In fact, the only other spaceships encountered were unidentified blips at the edge of the radar. They did not initiate contact, and neither did the _Skylark_.

It was smooth sailing for a while. Space travel could become very tedious very fast, and space itself had long been your definition of "nothing" _._ Even with all the time you spent traveling through it, the blackness outside the ship's window was a constant reminder of just how isolated you and the crew were between planets. There wasn't any intelligent life around for millions of miles, and with this mission, you and the crew were alone more than ever.

The Furthest Ring could be seen from a week's distance of travel away. The song and merriment died down, evaporating into a grim expectation as the ship drew closer and closer. The Kingdoms were right to describe it as void, you realized, trying to keep spirits up through your own unease. The Furthest Ring became your new definition of _nothing_. It was a black wall that stretched as far as the eye could see, devoid of light, and if you looked at it too long, it seemed to pulsate. You recorded these observations in the ship's log, even the ones chalked up to imagination. As the days went by and the view from the windows became clearer, you came to terms with the fact that the Ring was pulsating, after all. To you, it looked like the surface of a turbulent ocean, black waves churning in slow motion.

"It looks like tentacles," Leigh, the First Pilot, insisted. "I swear it's something like that. Every once in awhile you'll see one reach out."

After hearing that, every person on the ship watched outside with more diligence, though no one admitted to seeing anything like Leigh had described. You made sure to shorten the time between pilot shift exchanges. On many long voyages, the _SkyLark's_ AI took control of the wheel, but that wasn't the case now. There was no predetermined route through the Ring. It was possible that long hours at the wheel and the general nervous environment was making Leigh's imagination more active than it needed to be.

After one week of travel, the _Skylark_ hovered at a stop, about a mile away from its destination. You were in the command center, checking and re-checking anything that could possibly be amiss. The command center was the biggest space and had the largest windows on the ship, so almost all of the crew piled into the room to murmur and watch. You decided not to send them back to their jobs, as they were keeping out of the way well enough. Eventually, there was nothing to do but give Leigh the order to go forward.

"Nice and steady," you said. What you didn't know was that once the nose of the ship touched the Ring's surface, there was no backing out.

Much too late, you saw the tentacles Leigh had described. Enormous black tendrils snapped out, wrapping around the ship and yanking it inside. It happened so fast, you were knocked off your feet. Anything that wasn't bolted down went flying against the far wall. Leigh, strapped into the pilot seat, had managed to hold onto the wheel. He was fighting to regain control, cursing and shouting for the assistant pilots, but it was no use. The _Skylark_ was like a child's toy to whatever had taken hold of it. You and your crew were dolls. Papers, books, devices, coffee cups and people were scattered artlessly across the floor. Cries of confusion and pain were drowned out by a blaring alarm that sounded through it all, an automated warning to signal the obvious turbulence.

Later, you verified all of Derse and Prospit's claims about The Furthest Ring. Time and space did not touch it, it was impossible to navigate, and it should never be entered under any circumstances.

You aren't exactly sure how long the ship was pulled through the fathomless black, but there was absolutely _nothing_ outside the window. No sign of the tentacles or what creature was manhandling the ship. No sign that there was an environment outside the control room at all. It was a constant black canvas. If not for the way the room tipped and swayed, occasionally turning over as if rolling down a hill, you might not have known the ship was moving at all. 

"Everyone, hold onto something!" you shouted after one nasty jostle, pulling yourself up and scrambling to the control panel. Someone, one of the assistant pilots, had beaten you there. She brought up a holo-keyboard, typed out a command, and hit enter, before the floor angled and you both slid sideways. You caught her mid-air, but it did either of you little good when your backs hit the far wall and knocked the air out of your lungs. She wheezed with a strained smile, patted your shoulder, and dove for an empty seat. _Mary_ , you thought. _I think her name is Mary._

The gravity inside the ship decreased, which kept you from sliding across the floor whenever it tipped and swayed. Slowly and with great difficulty, people were managing to strap into empty seats, so at least there was less danger of knocking heads. Now floating, you held on tight to the back of Leigh's seat and pointed across the room at Brann and Emily. The _Skylark_ was not a military ship, instead designed for the well-rounded set of traits needed for long voyages, but it was equipped with two laser cannons.

"Fire the guns!" you told them. "Fire randomly, just don't hit the ship itself!"

They didn't waste time with a salute. You opened the doors from the control panel and they were off. 

The low hum of the cannons firing up meant that Brann and Emily had reached their positions in good time. From the intensity of the sound, they were cranked up to maximum power. The ship stopped jostling the moment two shots roared, one after another. Then there was silence, except for a few groans and huffs of pain as unlucky people peeled themselves off the walls. You didn't move or speak for a few long moments, not trusting the sudden stillness to last. The ship righted itself.

Leigh was gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, beads of sweat dotting his hairline. "I think it let go," he said quietly.

The radar was blank. There was no way to tell which direction the ship was facing. The window's black view was the same as ever, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Something was here, and though it might have let go, it hadn't left.

"What are you?" you murmured to the darkness.

When you received an answer, it felt as though your mind wanted to fracture. Whatever lurked outside the thin walls of the _Skylark_ , it had slithered into your head like infestation. A thousand voices spoke at once, in different pitches and speeds to create a noise that would have been unintelligible if the creature speaking had not intended to be precisely understood.

" ** _We are the outer gods. We are the Horrorterrors of the Furthest Ring_**."

You crumpled, eyes screwed shut, pressing your palms to your ears as hard as you could. Listening hurt so much-- were your ears bleeding?

" _ **Your mind is too feeble to fully behold our voices, human. It because I am only a Smaller god that my whisper has not yet killed you.**_ "

Beneath the Smaller god's whisper, you were distantly aware of the ruckus your crew was making: voices crying out and hands shaking you. You couldn't pay them any mind, because the Horrorterror's voice was all-consuming. You were asking questions, and it was only answering. Why would it care if the answers were destroying you?

"Don't talk to me anymore," you pleaded. "Don't talk to me."

This time, there was no reply. You waited, trying to stitch together your sanity, trying to figure out how to stop the pain exploding behind your eyes. You were snapped out of your trance when the gravity settings were restored and your knees hit the floor. It was if someone had ripped headphones out of your ears. You could suddenly make sense of what the crew was shouting, what Leigh was saying as his grip on your shoulder slackened in shock.

The view outside the command center window was empty no longer. Through tears, you saw huge clouded eyes, beaks, and grinning mouths leering down at the crew. There was no rhyme or reason to the placement, and it seemed as though the features hung from the darkness itself. These creatures either blended perfectly into the void of the Furthest Ring, or the Furthest Ring was just made up of the creatures themselves, one writhing mass of intertwined monsters.

"Captain," Leigh murmured. "What's happening?"

"We've found intelligent life," you said hoarsely. You tried to raise your voice above a whisper, but your vocal chords weren't cooperating. " _Do not talk to them_. They have telepathy."

From across the room, you spotted a familiar head of curly hair breaking free from the huddle of frightened people. It was Mary, and she was approaching the glass. 

"No!" you tried to call, but you couldn't make yourself loud enough. Leigh heard you, and shouted your warning across the room. "Mary, come back!"

"Are they hostile? If they're sentient, we need to try and attempt communication!" Mary replied with a cautious glance over her shoulder. She was close enough to reach out and lay a hand on the window. The Horrorterrors writhed and turned at her nearness.

"We can't! Don't ask questions," you pleaded, but it was too late. You knew a Horrorterror had given Mary her answer when her face contorted in pain. She stumbled back sluggishly, pupils blown impossibly wide. A few people darted forward to catch her, dragging her back to the far wall, as far away from the Horrorterrors as the layout of the room allowed.

"What are you?" she cried aloud. "What do you want? Why did you drag us all the way out here? Why do you call yourselves gods? Are you evil?" She moved her hands away from her ears, and you saw the red on her palms.

In your desperation, you found your voice. "Stop asking questions!" you screamed. "Don't listen to them!"

Something was happening to Mary. She shrieked, convulsing painfully, and the crew members struggling to keep her upright finally dropped her when she raked her nails across a man's face. She shouted, " _Let me go!_ " and then her cries became a deep, mumbled jargon whose meaning you didn't want to understand.

Leigh pulled you to your feet. A woman, her name was Lily, was reaching out to help Mary despite everything. You ran over and jerked Lily back by her uniform, smearing blood from your own bleeding ears over the blue fabric. "Don't touch her," you said. "Whatever's happening, it's coming from the things outside. They call themselves _Horrorterrors_." The name felt heavy on your tongue.

"You spoke with them? What did they tell you?" Lily asked, eyeing your bloodied grip on her shoulder with a look you'd never seen before. She was afraid, you realized, not only of the Horrorterrors, but of you. You removed the hand.

"Their voices cause harm to us. We can't afford to speak to them like Mary has."

Mary had stilled, breathing hard, laying on her back with her eyes closed. Her dark skin had a sickly gray tint to it, but you felt a fluttering hope that she might be alright. You'd make sure of it.

"What did they tell you, captain? How are we going to get out of here?" Lily asked.

"I can tell you." Mary opened her eyes. They glowed a harsh white. Slowly, an aura like black fire engulfed her body, creeping outwards towards everyone else.

"Back up! Cover your ears!" You hissed, but a thorny tentacle shot out of Mary's aura and wrenched Lily's hands down. Mary's mouth moved. Lily thrashed, but couldn't break free as the tentacles tightened their grip, wrapping around her like vines. When she went limp, the shadows allowed her body to drop. That black aura converged over Lily's body, and Mary was already onto her next target.

You pressed your palms so tightly against your ears that your skull ached, shouting for everyone to " _run, the doors are open, run!_ " Too many people didn't make it. You watched your crew fall one by one, undergoing Mary's transformation.

The room was suddenly bathed in red flashing lights, a rhythmic alarm blaring over the shrieking and chanting. Leigh had fled to the control panel and turned on the turbulence alarm in an effort to drown out the noise. The thorny tentacles targeted him next, and you were powerless to protect him when you couldn't even protect yourself.

You hadn't meant to ask the questions, but you couldn't help it. You had to know. _What's happening to them? How can I stop it?_

" _ **They have gone completely off the deep end in every way, and you can't help them now. They've gone Grimdark.**_ "

At last, you followed your crew into madness.

* * *

**Her Imperious Condescension**

The Condesce always felt Gl'bgolyb's whisper on the edges of her mind. All throughout her long life, the messages from her lusus never stopped and rarely changed. When she had been a newly hatched grub, Gl'bgolyb wasted no time in informing her of the demand that, as one of the only two fuchsia bloods alive, she must challenge the then-reigning Empress for the throne. When the Condesce came of age and sent her predecessor's head rolling, Gl'bgolyb was gracious enough to start sending warnings of major civil unrest on her home planet. Her people needed to be kept in line.

The one unchanging subject of Gl'bgolyb's whispers was a prophecy of the world's end. The Condesce's lusus had the potential to release a psychic scream that would exterminate every troll in the galaxy, except for those with fuchsia in their veins. As Empress, it was the Condesce's duty to curb this threat, known as the Vast Glub. Regular feeding for Gl'bgolyb and keeping a tight hold on the mental connection between them was what it took. Constantly upholding these rituals could be an inconvenience, but being able to threaten her subjects with mass extinction at Gl'bgolyb's hand had proven helpful. Besides, the Condesce was fond of her abomination of a lusus. They made quite the pair.

So as nights blended into sweeps, the Condesce made sure Gl'bgolyb never got too upset. She was fine with the whispers, they were easily quieted with a few extra treats here and there, so long as Gl'bgolyb's voice never raised. That was when the lowbloods would start dying, and as expendable as they were, it was not currently necessary to deplete the workforce so drastically.

So her days went, exploring the galaxy, conquering alien civilizations, and preventing the Vast Glub all the while. The Condesce's place at the top was unshakable, won ruthlessly and defended even more so. Her terror reached far and wide, rooted most deeply in her home planet, Alternia. Her people were enslaved to her every whim, and if they didn't love her, they had enough incentive to pretend. Any and all opposition was crushed. The Condesce had ruled an interstellar empire for generations, and didn't intend on leaving anytime soon. But, she could admit, being the biggest fish for so long could get monotonous. The only thing that could send it all toppling down was herself-- if one day her concentration slipped, Gl'bgolyb's reigns would loosen. Then, if the feeding schedule was just a little off, or if Gl'bgolyb was feeling whiny for any number of little reasons: _Boom_.

But that would never happen. The only person in the world the Condesce could trust _was_ herself.

The monotony of the Condesce's day-in, day-out cycle of queenly duties was broken when, during an especially boring video report from the Grand Highblood, she felt a prickle at the back of her thinkpan. It drowned out whatever Kurloz was saying about subjuggulator rankings and low paint supply. It made the Condesce gnash her teeth in a flash of panic, and it had been a very, very long time since she had felt anything akin to fear. The noise in her mind was Gl'bgolyb, raising her voice out of nowhere.

" _Hush_ ," the Condesce hissed, cutting off the Grand Highblood's rumbling sentence. "What do you want now?"

At her curt order, Gl'bgolyb quieted enough that lives weren't in danger, but didn't cease trying to hold her attention. Gl'bgolyb wailed, cried and groaned, and every sound in the Condesce's mind had a weight. Her lusus was definitely displeased, but she was taking longer to convey _why_. Gl'bgolyb seldom deigned to speak in words, instead communicating in mental ideas, pictures, and feelings sent through their two-way connection. Her whispers, sounding like thousands of voices speaking at once, carried these thoughts through something other than language. Conversation was a tedious guessing game on the Condesce's part, because she could never glean direct meaning from whatever the voices in her head muttered. However, speaking directly with Gl'bgolyb and being subject to her true voice had its own downsides.

The Grand Highblood hadn't a clue on what was really happening, so had assumed she was talking to him. "What do I want? Faygo, some good motherfucking paints every once in awhile, and a clear shot to the dark carnival."

"Shut up for just a _second_."

"Wicked Sis, you all up in a nasty mood?"

"Ya boring me, buoy. We're finished here." A wave of her hand, and the screen flicked off, ending the call. The royal living quarters on her prized flagship were dark and locked for the time being. She was alone except for the presence in her mind.

Sighing heavily, the Condesce stood from an elaborate throne and took a moment to crack her back as Gl'bgolyb tried to form a cohesive narrative. Distorted images and garbled sounds flashed behind the Condesce's eyes. _Dark tentacles, eyes, beaks, a flash of silver, metal, a starship?_ Gl'bgolyb's low, keening wail sounded through it all.

"I can't catch yer fucking meaning if you keep talking so fast," the Condesce grumbled. 

" ** _The Furthest Ring has been disturbed. The Noble Council of Horrorterrors has spoken to me."_**

She fell right back into the chair, clutching her temples and snarling with a pain she rarely experienced but remembered well. Gl'bgolyb was speaking, direct and true. 

"What do you mean?" she asked. Her ear fins were stretched wide, a natural reaction to stress. A part of her threatened to buckle under the weight of Gl'bgolyb's whisper, but she shoved it aside. _I am Her Imperious Condescension, and I have nothing to fear from anyone, especially my own whiny lusus._

" ** _Little sacks of flesh stumbled straight into the grasp of my cousins. Their technology was rudimentary and all were driven Grimdark, but even so, these strange people were remarkably resilient to the whispers of Horrorterrors._** ** _You haven't conquered every civilization, dear one. There are universes other than the one you rule, and there is plunder I'm sure you would be interested in."_**

The volume and pressure building against her skull was almost unbearable now. Almost. "So. . . yer saying. . . you'll finally let me through. . . the Furthest Ring?"

**_"You will not be going through. My cousins do not hold the same value on your well-being as I do. Your power will simply tempt them into corrupting your mind and using you as their own pawn. They will, however, consent to letting the flesh sacks through to this side. Why don't you invite the flesh sacks over for dinner?"_ **

"For dinner or as dinner? . . . What do the Horrorterrors hafta gain from this? What do _I_ hafta to gain from this?"

" _ **Careful with questions, dear one. The intentions of the Horrorterrors will remain a mystery for the sake of your sanity. All I can say is that they are very curious.**_ "

"Fuck you and your smartwrasse, cagey omniscience. Ya gonna make me work it out by myself, gill? Fine! The Horrorterrors are curious, eh? They're curious about the resilient minds of aliens from the other side of the Ring. They're gonna let these aliens through to this universe, and I'm expected to play host on Alternia." Gl'bgolyb did not answer, directly or indirectly. The Condesce's voice had risen to a shout, and she felt hot blood drip from her nose and behind her ear fins. "So what do I have to gain? Another race enslaved, another planet under my belt? These ' _flesh sacks'_ must be special somehow, and you're expecting me to put blind trust into you and agree to all this. Maybe I'll invite these aliens over for longer than a dinner and torture some answers out of 'em. Should be easy enough."

Gl'bgolyb tugged on her end of their mental connection. The Condesce closed her eyes and allowed a series of blurry images to float into her mind. _Hornless figures lay sprawled across a silver floor. Their uniforms were a powdery blue, but the blood spilled was a bright candy red. It was dark, and the shadows in this scene were accentuated with an odd, dreamlike quality to them. All of these aliens were motionless corpses but for one, collapsed at the base of what seemed to be part of a control room console. This alien lay on their back, limbs twisted in odd angles and eyes staring unblinkingly upwards. Their chest heaved. A sign of life._

_Their eyes glowed dimly. Slowly, they blinked._

The Condesce left the vision, and the effort it took was like swimming upwards and breaking the surface of an ocean. "So one of 'em's managed to survive so far. Fintastic for the broken little thing. Here's the deal: I will agree to this. I will send out an invite, stun these weird fucking hornless things with my beauty and power, and I'll even hold off on the invasion for a 'lil while, if ya cousins' mysterious fucking intentions demand it. All you have to do is not be such a pain in the wrasse with your destructive potential. That means no whining, no bitching, no raising ya voice, and no _screaming_. Dealing with this is gonna take some time and energy that I don't wanna waste on you, gill. Are we in agreement?"

" ** _We are in agreement,_** _ **for now**_ ** _._** _ **Be careful, dear one. Trying to bottle up my scream might make it burst out at an inopportune time. One day, I'll let it go."**_

The Condesce clenched her teeth so hard she heard something _crack_. This time, the return of Gl'bgolyb's true voice hit her like a trident to the gut. In the past twenty minutes, The Condesce's lusus had directly spoken more than she had ever heard at once. "Whale, that sounds an awful lot like a threat," she mumbled. "I'm gonna need details, you understand?"

" ** _I will tell you all you need to know-- but not now. Oh dear, it looks like I've gone on too long. Your mind can't bear to comprehend the sound of my voice any longer. Sleep well, dear one."_**

The last of her trained psychic resistance toppled, and the sheer power and corruption of Gl'bgolyb's voice finally overwhelmed her. The Condesce blacked out, and only realized it when she startled awake a few hours later, slumped over in the chair like one of those alien corpses.

The ache in her neck and spine was nothing compared to the headache hammering away between her eyes. _Thinking_ hurt. Blood crusted below her nose, over her lips, and along the sides of her neck. She could hear Gl'bgoylb's usual whisper, unintelligible but an active reminder that her lusus was always there, waiting for her chance to end the world. The low humming was quieter than the Condesce could ever remember; to make sure it was even there, she had to stop and focus.

_How long was I out? Did anyone see this moment of weakness? How many shrimps do I have to cull?_ The Condesce growled, anger flaring hot and sharp. When she ran a tongue over the bottoms of her teeth and felt a chip missing, she put her trident through the video screen and its frame of wrought gold. _I need new teeth. I need a new tech setup, I need to redecorate this whole damn suite._

The Condesce stormed through her rooms, not slowing as she tore up the place with a few careless strokes of her trident. She burst through the double doors of her fuchsia rooms and into a grand hall. A passing servant yelped, stumbling back and staring up at her in alarm. Before the oliveblooded servant remembered his place and cast his eyes down, they lingered for a moment too long at the places on her face where dried blood lay.

The Condesce had forgotten all about it. She scrubbed her top lip with the back of a hand, grinning wickedly down at the servant. "Whale, whale. Today's ya lucky day, shrimp. You're the first of ya generation to see fuchsia blood spilled." _And the last._ His culling was quick and unceremonious. She had places to be and plans to make for the journey home to Alternia.

_I need new servants. Hell, I probably need a new Helmsman. She's still kicking, but there's no harm in upgrading everyfin whale I'm at it._ The Condesce stepped over a puddle of olive blood and flicked some stray droplets off of one end of her trident. There was really nothing like a good culling to put some unease at rest. Her anger over being passed out and vulnerable after succumbing to Gl'bgolyb's true voice was fading, giving way to heightened spirits as her mind swam with refurbishing ideas. She felt riled up. _Glubbin' excited._ If these aliens were what Gl'bgolyb had implied them to be, a challenge and a real conquest, then this was the most interesting thing to happen to her since taking the throne. That was why she'd accepted her lusus's strange request so readily.

The floor was a gleaming black marble, so polished one could use its reflection to scrape blood off of their face, like the Condesce was doing now. She couldn't help but give her reflection a saucy wink before setting off down the hall, calling for someone to dispose of the body and mop up the olive footprints she left in her wake.

The Helmsman piloted the ship and could receive instructions in person, but the current one had been ingrained into the flagship's system for so long that her speech was reduced into a few stuttering and slow words at a time. Her hearing had gone bad as well, and it was easier to punch coordinates directly into the ship's system than it was to trek into the ship's underbelly and sound them out for the Helmsman. The Condesce rarely visited her anymore; there wasn't any conversation worth having, and she could always order some underling to find a console and type out the ship's destination for her.

There was a rotating roster of unlucky trolls who were in charge of the Helmsman's maintenance. On the way to the throne room, the Condesce ordered another terrified servant to fetch them. As an afterthought, she notified the flagship's resident tailor that she would be having an impromptu appointment after her business with the engine maintenance crew was finished.

The Condesce's enormous throne was wrought with pure gold and upholstered with fuchsia velvet, the backrest shaped into her sign: )-(. She was comfortably seated by the time six trolls hurried into the throne room and bowed at her feet. Half of them had been hastily roused from their recuperacoons, from the way wet sopor slime stuck to their hair and made it stick out in all directions. She regarded them in silence for a few long moments, debating whether or not that was enough to warrant culling.

"How quickly can you haul wrasse and get this rig back to Alternia?" she asked.

The maintenance crew exchanged wary glances. She waved a hand, giving them permission to rise and confer between themselves. They gathered into a close huddle, not daring to spare a glance her way.

Eventually, the group pushed one blueblooded man out in front as the chosen spokesperson. "It would take about a sweep and a half, your highness," he said, eyes cast down. His voice didn't tremble, but the Condesce watched in amusement as his entire body tensed.

"Make it quicker. I don't care about fryin' the Helmsman. I'mma find a chattier one."

The man glanced back to the group behind him. A few hushed words and nods were exchanged. "We can shorten the time to half a sweep at the cost of the Helmsman's life. Any shorter, and we risk burning her out and killing her before we reach Alternia. We would be floating, adrift in space."

"Hmm." The Condesce absentmindedly jangled with the stack of golden bracelets on her left arm, twirling her trident in the other. "Are. Ya. Certain. That's as fast as we can go?"

The blueblood jerked his head in a nod. 

"Very whale. Get outta here, all of you."

They marched out of the throne room at a stiff walking pace, though the Condesce was happy to see that they wanted to flee like squeakbeasts. If they had run, it would have cost them their lives. The maintenance crew would live to see another day, it seemed.

_I'm bringing delicate little aliens to Alternia,_ she thought. _Gog, this better be good._

She heaved a sigh and hopped inelegantly off of the throne. The tailor had been given scarcely fifteen minutes to prepare, but it was always fun to keep him on his toes.

As she strode away, the click of her heels echoing throughout the chamber, the Condesce could feel an almost pleasant tickle at the back of her thinkpan. Gl'bgolyb was satisfied.


	2. Rose, the Seer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so long I had to cut it in half

**Reader**

The _Skylark_ was found ejected from the Furthest Ring, adrift somewhere along the edge of Derse's moon. Agents from both Kingdoms descended on the ship and forcefully boarded when all attempts to communicate with anyone inside received no response. You were the sole survivor, but in no state to give an account of what had transpired when they found you passed out among the bodies in the command center.

You were brought to Derse, the closest planet, and given the appropriate medical care. The Grimdarkness was gone. A mild concussion was the worst of your physical injuries, and the rest were bruises and scrapes. You didn't wait until you were healed to give your statement. The _Skylark's_ mission, its horrible results, and everything you knew about the Horrorterrors were laid bare before the higher powers of Derse, Prospit, and Earth. In the end they seemed to believe you, and Earth agreed to a ban on further exploration into the Furthest Ring. The entire mission was covered up, and you were coerced into an oath of silence. There would be an uproar from citizens of all three planets if word of a hostile alien attack got out, so the families of your crew members were told that the _Skylark's_ passengers were wiped out as the result of an accident. The story they came up with was that some kind of malfunction in the ship's system resulted in an explosion. It didn't make Earth's news.

As for the Horrorterrors? They remained in the Furthest Ring where they belonged, largely unknown but most importantly, unheard. They did not strike out for revenge as you had originally feared, and from the outside, they did not seem to stir at all. The Horrorterrors left the planets of the Incipisphere alone, and the planets offered them the same courtesy.

You don't know how you, out of all of those people, survived. You resolved yourself to never knowing. The last thing you remember was hearing that Smaller God of a Horrorterror put a name to Grimdarkness, and then the rest of your memories were static up until being prodded awake by a Prospitian agent. The deaths of your crew members were ruled as blunt force trauma, and the investigators came to the conclusion that the Skylark's crew had torn each other apart.

You returned to Earth, hung up your captain's uniform, and attended fourteen closed-casket funerals. Life went on, or so you kept telling yourself. A year passed, and you put starships, adventure, and alien contact well behind you.

* * *

Photography was a passion that had followed you since high school, and it was a hobby you fell back on as a career. Sure, you weren't making big bucks working for Time, or even making that much money at all, but it was fine. As a freelance photographer, you were able to afford a small apartment, food, and a coffee from the cafe around the bend every once in awhile.

You were fine. Everything was fine.

The good thing about being your own boss was that sleeping in until 2:00 PM on a Wednesday was acceptable if you thought it was. So that was what you were doing. To be fair, you were recovering from a wedding photo shoot that started the previous night and dragged on into the early morning of that Wednesday. You took the gig on for cheap, after the money started running lower than usual and you decided that branching out on job opportunities would be worth it. The bride and groom were fans of the unconventional, and their wedding theme was _zombie_ and _disco tech_. At the height of their midnight revelry, they pushed some drinks into your hands, and things might have escalated a bit further during the wedding reception. The pictures you didn't quite remember taking were outstanding, but here you were a couple hours later, suffering for them.

You would've appreciated being left to your recovery, but your bleary eyes snapped open when a familiar ringtone started blasting close to your head.

Ah. It was _your_ ringtone, coming from your personal computer. Upon returning home, you had been so tired that you forgot to take it off before collapsing onto your mattress. Your computer was a _Monocle_ type, in the form of a headband that wrapped around the side of your head and held a screen over your left eye. It was a little outdated, the design was clunky, and you found it hard to focus on anything else when wearing it, but you weren't exactly in the position to afford an upgrade.

The caller I.D. was none other than Cara Berger, the Director of Human and Extraterrestrial Relations and an important influence in The Bureau of Cosmic Advancement.

 _She has the wrong number_ , you thought. In a sluggish daze, you watched the _incoming call_ screen until the Director was sent to voicemail. Ten seconds later, and she was calling again. _Oh, what the hell. Why not?_ You cleared your throat, thankful that it wasn't a video call, and finally answered.

There weren't any hello's from her. She started by practically shouting your name, and you were tempted to tell her she had the wrong number, after all. 

Instead, you greeted, "Director." Your voice came out as an ugly croak. You took the Monocle off and held it away as you vigorously cleared your throat, and then tried again. "Nice weather we're having."

"It's shit weather. How have you been?"

"Fine."

"Good, good."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, too."

Silence.

"It's been one year," you said. "And I haven't heard a word from you until now. Are you calling me to complain about the weather, or are you calling me because you want something?"

The Director's laughter trailed off into a sigh. "You've always been quick to the point. Yes, I want something from you. Hear me out?"

"I'm not promising anything." Already, your vague discomfort had sharpened into a churning sense of unease. "But I'm listening."

"That's all I can ask. Here, let me get my notes." There was a rustle of paper, and the Director cleared her throat. "One week ago we had new alien contact--"

"-- _From who?_ "

"Lemme speak, alright? It didn't come from Derse, Prospit, or the Horrorterrors. We've received a message from some new aliens that call themselves trolls. Their planet is called Alternia, and it is in another universe on the other side of the Furthest Ring. Their Empress has invited a small group of human diplomats to their planet for peace negotiations."

 _Impossible._ At least the Director could cut to the chase, though taking this in all at once was like being punched five times in a row and being surprised every time. ". . . Alright. How do you know it's not a hoax? What does the message look like?"

"The message is a video that was broad-casted on every device in every building the BCA operates in. The Empress--she has a really long name, _Her Imperious Condescension_ , can you believe it-- spoke English, and she set some terms down in the invite. She asked for 'Earth's Finest' specifically, in a small group of about four or five. Personally, I first saw the video in the break room on the coffee machine's little screen. I'll let you take a look at it later, if you're interested in meeting with me in person. I can't just send the video to you, sorry. You know the policy. This whole thing hasn't even got out to the public, yet, and we'd like to keep it that way for now."

". . . Yes, this is some pretty top-secret stuff you're telling me, right? Go on."

"We know that this message isn't a hoax because Derse and Prospit have confirmed the trolls' existence. The Kingdoms said that they don't know the trolls personally, but their reputation as conquerors has reached across the Furthest Ring, and the Kingdoms have been wary of them for a long time. Until now, they haven't told Earth anything about Alternia or the trolls for fear that we would seek them out. . . and bring destruction down upon the Incipisphere."

"I can't blame the Kingdoms at all." You dug your fingernails into your palms. "The last time we went against their warnings, we went into the Furthest Ring and people _died_. I don't think we should be doing this. And anyway, if the trolls are on the other side of the Ring, how are you planning on getting past the Horrorterrors?"

Because the vast majority of Earth's population had no idea of the Horrorterrors' existence, avoiding mention of them had been easy over the past year. But your mind still dwelt on them sometimes, when you were alone or when you passed a shadowy corner and saw a reaching tentacle out of the corner of your eye. Saying that name out loud, _Horrorterror_ , was almost like summoning their presence. You felt a tug at the back of your mind and the slightest whisper.

_Hello (Hello) Hello_

It spooked you so badly you leaped out of bed and missed what the Director had to say next.

 _It's nothing,_ you told yourself. The Director talked on and on, and though you recognized her voice, it had as much meaning as static. You paced a familiar route around your tiny apartment: a loop heading towards the bathroom, a quick circle around the kitchen/main room, and then back to the bedroom. Trying to control your breathing, you flicked on all the lights. Your shoulders lost some of their tension when the shadows were cast away by the glow of light bulbs.

". . . creator of the Auto-Responder," the Director was saying when you tuned back in. Being able to speak without pause was a skill she used to the fullest extent. "You might have heard of him already? I think Time did a story on them both once, and I heard you got into the photography business. Maybe you don't do magazines, I don't know."

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" you asked.

"The people chosen--"

"Could you start at how ' _Earth's Finest'_ are going to get past the. . . how they're going to get through the Furthest Ring?"

If the Director sensed anything was wrong, she didn't ask. She patiently repeated herself. "In the video, the Empress just said that she would provide safe passage through the Furthest Ring. She didn't elaborate on how. The Kingdoms aren't sure how this can be done, either. [Name], I think humanity is going to answer this invitation no matter who disagrees. I think it's for the best. From what we know about the trolls so far, the Alternian Empire is huge, and the Empress conquers entire planets to feed it. The Empress can apparently let others travel through the Furthest Ring, too. What if she sends her army over to this side? That doesn't bode well for us, Derse, or Prospit if we make ourselves the trolls' enemy. If they want to talk peace, I think we should take them up on the offer."

Every cell in your body was against this, and you absolutely hated that you could see, and agree with, the logic in the Director's reasoning. "I still think that it's too much of a risk to take. You guys are acting based on too many _what-ifs_. I don't think any person can reason with those things in the Furthest Ring, and humanity agreed that the Ring would be off-limits."

"There's no helping it. If we try to go to Alternia, the crew chosen for this mission might die at the hands of the Horrorterrors. If we don't go, then the trolls might get mad at us and decide to try and force Earth under their rule. Derse and Prospit did not cast them in a flattering light. Humans have been trying to avoid a space war for a long time, and that's what we're still trying to do. It's already been decided, and whether we agree with it or not, there _will be_ a diplomatic group sent to Alternia. We just have to trust the Empress's word and hope for the best until we know more."

You stopped pacing in the main room and sat heavily on the worn sofa. She was right about the choice already being made, you supposed. _Four or five lives over billions. Not that bad of a sacrifice, all things considered._ "God," you sighed. "Well, tell me all you know. I really hate this, I hate the Furthest Ring, and we shouldn't meddle in it. . . but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I hung up now."

"Earlier, I started telling you about the crew we voted on for this mission. Do you want me to repeat it?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"The choice was out of my hands, but the crew chosen as 'Earth's Finest' will be Captain Jane Crocker, Roxy Lalonde, Jake English, and Dirk Strider. Strider is the creator of the Auto-Responder, and it's supposed to be a super advanced A.I. The Auto-Responder's being integrated in the ship we're using for this mission, to try and make up for the lack of people the Empress is allowing on Alternia. Here's where you come into play."

"Now, hold up. I haven't agreed to anything."

"Here's where you come into play, if you agree. I'd like you to be the fifth person on this mission."

"No. God, no. A thousand times, no. I quit my job and spit at your feet the last time I saw you. I'm not an explorer or an ambassador anymore. You think I qualify as ' _Earth's Finest?_ " You were suddenly very aware of your surroundings. You were slouched over on the ancient, moth-eaten couch you got at a thrift store for $50. Your apartment (which wasn't just small, it was minuscule) was a dump. You were still working off a sleep-deprived hangover and wearing yesterday's clothes. Your life was in shambles. "I'm flattered, but no. I don't know whether or not to thank you for telling me all these things, but rest assured I won't be letting people know about the mission. The secret's safe with me, because I'm going to try and forget it."

"I just sent you the contract, if you change your mind." Your Monocle let out a _ping,_ and you saw a notification in the corner of your screen. "The terms are negotiable. The pay is also six digits. You might convince me to raise it, or the BCA might be able to cover the cost of new camera equipment. Whatever you need, within reason."

You laughed, and the sound grated on your ears. "Why do you want me to go on this mission so badly? What do you even want me to do?"

"You're a photographer now, and that works out nicely, because documentation is an important part of this mission. I saw your portfolio online, and I think it's pretty good stuff. There's also the fact that I don't think the chosen crew is right for this job. Sure, they're good people, but in my professional opinion, none of them are really that level-headed. You, as a former captain, have experience in dealing with aliens in tense diplomatic situations. The others haven't proven themselves as much as you have. The higher-ranking agents of Derse and Prospit still remember you, and hell, they like you! I want you on that ship to Alternia so that the chances of success go up."

"Have you met me? Do you remember that time we parked the _Skylark_ in a no-parking zone on Derse, and the ship got towed? It took me and the crew five hours to figure it out, because we took a left instead of a right somewhere along the way and got lost in the city. Then the Authority Regulator who towed our ship detained us in his office and I fell asleep and drooled all over the paperwork. It was still wet when I turned it in."

"Derse is infamous for its excessive paperwork. You're level-headed when the situation demands it."

You snorted. "The answer is still no, Director. Thanks for trying to cast this opportunity my way, but I won't be taking it." _Damnit, I could use that money, though. "_ For the record, I think the chosen crew will do just fine. I know Jane, Roxy, Jake and Dirk. They're good explorers, and they know their way around tense situations as well as I used to."

"Good explorers, yeah. But are they good diplomats?"

"Goodbye--" There was a sharp rapping at your door. "--Director."

The knocking came again, more insistent this time. The front door was only about two yards away from where you were sitting, so you were able to hear the disrupting sound all the more clearly. You frowned and straightened, forgetting to coolly hang up like you had originally planned. Visitors never came to the apartment.

Evidently, the Director heard it, too. "What was that?"

"Someone probably has the wrong apartment," you grumbled, getting to your feet. "Just like how _you_ have the wrong number."

"Oh, _ha ha._ "

You squinted through the peephole. Two women stood in the dim hall on the other side. One was short and stout, with buck teeth, round glasses, and a home-baked cake cradled in her arms. The other, bouncing on her tip-toes and watching the doorknob expectantly, had curly blonde hair that framed her face and a striped purple scarf wound around her neck.

These were old friends of yours, kept at an arm's distance in the last year.

"Jane Crocker and Roxy Lalonde are standing outside my door," you hissed. "Got some explaining to do, Director?"

"What? I didn't send them! If you don't want to go on this potentially deadly mission, then I'm not going to force you. Besides, even if I did send them to try and convince you, I'd make sure the timing was different."

You huffed, desperately looking down at your shoddy outfit. The clothes themselves weren't bad, dressy enough to attend a wedding (you didn't go with the zombie/disco tech theme), but they were wrinkled to all hell. You'd tossed and turned from the usual bad dreams, and the overall look was that of a sweaty, sleep-deprived college dropout rather than a debauched bachelor.

"If you did send them, I'll know. Goodbye, Director." You hung up.

You tossed the Monocle onto the couch and drew in a ragged breath. _I don't have to answer the door. I can just pretend I'm not home,_ you thought.

But. . . Jane and Roxy were going on the mission to Alternia. If they ended up dying and you missed what could be the last chance to see them, then you would regret it for the rest of your life. You didn't need any more regrets.

The knocking became pounding, and now it seemed Roxy and Jane were beating on your door at the same time. They got a good rhythm going.

"Just one second," you muttered. You rushed to the bedroom, throwing on a moderately clean bath robe over yesterday's clothes. By the time you hurried back into the main room, the knocking had stopped. You threw open the door just as the two had turned to leave.

Roxy's look of surprise split into a wide grin. "You!" She didn't hesitate to close the distance and throw her arms around your neck. You hugged back awkwardly, and was surprised at how nice it was to see some friends again. You didn't have that much of a social life anymore.

Jane hung back because of the cake in her hands, but she was only marginally less cheery than Roxy. You gave her a genuine smile, and she held out the cake so you could see its frosted design. A happy blue sun was artfully frosted in the center of the round cake, but someone had taken orange frosting and put pointy sunglasses over its eyes. Shitty doodles in orange, pink, and green spread out to cover any available space.

"I made the mistake of letting the others help," Jane said, sparing a glare at Roxy. "I hope you don't mind? It is goshdarn good to see you, though!"

"Good to see you, too. I love it," you said, and meant it even after you spotted an orange stick man with a speech bubble that said "Vore me." "Do you guys wanna come in?"

Roxy released the hug so you could shuffle over to your door and hold it open for the two women. You were uncomfortably aware of the mess inside, but they didn't say anything about it. Jane set the cake down on the kitchen counter and started to slice it after you directed her to the cutlery drawer.

"Tea or coffee?" you asked, pulling three mugs from a squeaky cabinet and trying to act natural. Jane requested tea, and Roxy went for coffee with no cream but a generous helping of sugar.

When it was all ready, the three of you gathered around the dining table and tucked into the cake. You kept your head down. Whenever you glanced up at Roxy's face, you could just tell she was bursting with questions. Jane seemed just as curious, from the way her blue eyes roved around the room and took in every detail.

The lack of conversation was equal parts a relief and a discomfort. You didn't like sitting in stiff silence with people you used to get along with so naturally, but you were also afraid about what they might ask. Questions about your well-being were awkward enough, and many of your life's grievances stemmed from that fateful mission into the Furthest Ring. You were still under an oath of silence, but regardless of any legal consequences, you just thought they would be happier not knowing about Grimdarkness or Horrorterrors. Your friends Roxy, Jane, Jake and Dirk knew only bits and pieces of what had happened to the _Skylark_. They didn't truly know the voices of the Horrorterrors, and they most certainly didn't know you were still hearing them in the back of your mind. They couldn't help you even if they did know. _It's only my imagination, anyway. Still hungover._

You froze with the fork halfway to your mouth. _I'm an idiot._ _They're going to the Furthest Ring! Withholding information about it isn't protecting them now. They need to be warned. Did the Director warn them?_ You cursed her.

By this time, Roxy had reached the end of her restraint. Her slice of cake was long gone, and she was poking her fork at the pile of multicolored frosting left on her plate. "So, what have you been doing lately?" she asked in a carefully neutral tone.

"Don't go on that mission to Alternia," you blurted. 

Roxy's eyebrows shot up. Jane put her mug down with more force than was strictly necessary, though she winced and apologized afterwards. They looked at each other.

"How were you able to sleuth that out?" Jane asked.

"The Director called and tried to get me to join. She might not have told me everything, but she told me a lot. I know the plan is to try and visit trolls by going through the Furthest Ring, which is a really, really bad idea. You guys aren't here to try and talk me into it, are you?"

Jane shook her head. "No, we didn't know about any potential fifth members. We came to say goodbye, though we weren't planning on telling you any details about the mission because it's pretty top-secret. Roxy had some kind of surprise day trip planned."

Roxy flapped a hand. "Say what you wanna say, first," she told you.

"I. . . understand that there are stakes here, and not showing up to a peace talk could be interpreted as a declaration of war. New aliens are a pretty important discovery and all that. I know you probably have to go, but if there is any way you can back out, I'm asking you to not go through with this mission. The Horrorterrors--"

 _We're waiting (waiting) waiting for you!_

You took in a sharp breath, pausing for one long moment as you tried to put your train of thought back on course. Jane and Roxy surely noticed something was off, but there was nothing you could do about that now. "They can't be reasoned with," you continued. "They're gods, and I don't think they will let you live if you try to trespass on their territory. I just barely got out, and I still don't know why."

Roxy sadly shook her head, and you knew the answer before she even opened her mouth. "We already signed a contract. We could face some serious jail time if we try to bail now."

"And the pay is pretty good, too," you said bitterly.

"I'm sorry, [Name]. They asked us to go, and we signed the contracts willingly. We have to go to Alternia."

"I get it," you said softly. "You can make your own decisions, and I guess it's an honor to be chosen for this. When you leave, I'll be rooting for you guys, alright? I'll make a wish on every fucking star I see."

"Thank you. It means a lot," Jane replied with a small smile. "Her Imperious Condescension promised we would get a safe journey to and from Alternia. There are a lot of things that can go wrong, but we've faced some pretty tough scrapes before and we've always come out on top!"

"If the Empress has influence over those _things_ in the Furthest Ring, then I'm as afraid of her as I am them," you said gravely.

The resulting silence was palpable, and it was even worse than before. You stared down at your plate of half-eaten cake and felt like you might throw it back up. There was a space of untouched frosting decorated with sloppy lines of green, the color being a signature to Jake English. On this particular slice, he'd drawn some kind of cartoon centaur with a handlebar mustache and udders.

 _That's so fucking weird. My friends are some A-grade weirdos,_ you thought. _I'll have to call Jake and Dirk up while I still have the chance._ And wow, you just made yourself feel even worse. 

You lay your hands in your lap, clasping them tightly. You didn't want to give your friends up as dead already, especially with Roxy and Jane sitting across from you at that very moment. They _had_ managed to pull themselves out of scrapes before, and now you supposed there was no choice but to have faith in their abilities. If they were zooming off to their deaths after all, then you didn't want your last parting to be like this.

"I am going to be so _angry_ if anything happens to you guys. Ugh." You sighed. "What's this about a day trip?"

Your friends accepted the subject change readily enough. You and Jane turned to Roxy. "Well," she said, pushing aside her plate and resting her chin on a closed fist. "How would you guys like to meet my mom?"

* * *

In Roxy's car, sunlight reflected off of the rhinestone steering wheel cover and shot directly into your eyes. Roxy, wearing a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses and humming along to the radio, was unbothered. You and Jane shared a squinting look of mutual discomfort until the car passed under the shade of some trees and, thankfully, you were no longer blinded.

Before hitting the road, Jane had insisted you take the front passenger seat, and had already wriggled into the back before you had time to protest. That was two hours ago, and she was still trying to make herself comfortable in the back of the moving car. There was little space not taken up by blankets, cat toys, and an enormous carrier. Milky white eyes peered out from behind the bars, and the friendly cats curled up inside the carrier were more than willing to accept pets from anyone but you. You had earned their wrath by accidentally crushing a shiny ball of foil under your foot, and for a short while they put up an indignant fuss at the destruction of a beloved toy.

So the plan was to visit Roxy's mother, but that's all you really knew until arriving at the destination. Roxy was bound and determined to keep whatever waited at her mother's house a "humongous motherloving surprise". Rose Lalonde's elaborate mansion was located past the edge of the city, in the woods some forty minutes away from the nearest town. In total, the trip was a three hour drive from your apartment. It wasn't as if you had any plans, so here you were, trying to enjoy yourself as if nothing was wrong.

Roxy took glee in withholding information about this surprise day trip, and Jane was as clueless as you were. Roxy wasn't exactly well-known for being able to keep secrets, and several times you and Jane almost managed to wheedle the truth behind all of this out of her. Still, though she practically vibrated in the driver's seat with excitement, Roxy gave no more information than she wanted to. It wasn't long before Roxy refused to say anything in response to questions, only shaking her head and miming a zipper closing over her mouth. You gave up more quickly than Jane, but eventually you both resolved yourselves to going along with the surprise as Roxy intended. You did demand Starbucks as payment, though. 

After a quick stop at a drive-thru, Roxy jabbed a thumb at the carrier and finally explained, "My mom's cat-sitting for me while I'm away."

Three black paws reached out from behind the bars and patted at Jane's leg and the upholstery. Apparently, the cats did not like to be separated, thus the size of the carrier. The largest of them was christened Vodka Mutini, and had one extra set of eyes.

"Is that the entire reason behind this? Your mom lives a long ways away and you didn't want to make the drive alone?" you teased. A shower and a change of clothes did wonders to improve your mood, and you were trying your best not to think about the mission.

"Partly, yeah, but I thought you guys would get along with my mom. She's been wanting to meet you, [Name]."

This certainly came as a surprise. You knew little about Roxy's mother, but from what you did know, there were almost no similarities between you and Rose Lalonde. She was rich, a bestselling author, and a recluse. You'd never read any of her books, but had seen them advertised on billboards so you figured she must have been a big name. You knew more about Rose's relationship with Roxy than her writing. The mother and daughter didn't talk much until recent years, but before you quit space expeditions, Roxy had confided in you her success at rebuilding a relationship with her mother. Now, they were apparently no longer estranged and were keeping contact with the occasional visit or call.

"Why does she want to see me?" you asked, looking between Roxy and Jane. You did a double-take at Jane's thunderous expression.

Jane leaned into the space between the two front seats and braced her arms on the center console. Haltingly, she said, "Roxy, your mom isn't trying to make us tell her about the Furthest Ring, is she? I don't wanna imply she'd be the kind to try and hoodwink someone, but if she fancies herself a witch in contact with eldritch monsters. . ."

You suddenly felt sick. " _What_?"

"Oh, no, Jane!" Roxy twisted around to stare at Jane from behind her tinted lenses, and the car swerved dangerously. Spilling Starbucks all over your lap, you lunged to take control of the wheel and straighten the car's path. Cursing under her breath, Roxy untwisted and pulled into an empty parking lot, killing the engine. She sighed heavily through her nose and threw her sunglasses onto her lap.

"Okay!" Roxy said. The cats were meowing in a frenzy, and Jane opened the carrier to try and calm them down. When it was quiet enough, Roxy continued. "I'm not bringing you guys over, especially you, [Name] with any ulterior motives. I'm not trying to bring up bad memories or make you guys join a seance, and my mom won't either. [Name], I know you're under an oath of confidentiality, and if my mom gets nosy I'll shut her down. I just thought a long road trip would be a nice way to say goodbye to Earth for a while? And that we could spend some time together? Sorry, maybe I should have just been up-front about it. My mom's house is pretty wacky, and I thought it would be cool to surprise you guys with my cat's mausoleum and stuff."

"I'm still lost!" you said. "How is your mom a witch?"

"She's into the occult. Magic, crystal balls, knitting, the voices of eldritch beings. . . stuff like that. It bleeds into her writing sometimes."

 _Voices, huh?_ You stared blankly at the dash. Jane procured a handful of napkins and passed it to you so you could mop up the puddle across your lap.

"Did you tell your mom about the Furthest Ring, Roxy?" Jane asked. She sounded less accusatory, but Roxy's face still twisted.

Roxy flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. "No, I didn't. I know this is gonna sound fishy, but I didn't have to tell my mom anything. She said she already knew about the Horrorterrors. When I asked her how she knew, she just said that some things are clear to her, because she's a witch."

"Well, that's bollocks."

"I don't know, Jane!" Roxy shouted.

Jane barely managed to school her expression, and you knew her stance on the supernatural was tolerance at best. She lived by the motto "Seeing is believing". Jane knew aliens were real because of the regular contact she had with them, but drew the line at ghosts, magic, and the paranormal. If Rose Lalonde called herself a witch, you already had an idea about Jane's opinion of her.

"Okay, I'm sorry." Jane reached out and awkwardly patted Roxy's shoulder. When Roxy leaned into the touch, Jane settled her hand there. "I didn't mean to insult you and your mother. I don't think you'd ever try to trick us."

You don't think Roxy would ever intentionally trick her friends, either. But like Jane, you didn't know Roxy's mother. _Contact with eldritch monsters?_

Now you were very interested in meeting Rose Lalonde.


	3. Write Up a Contract

**Reader**

There was a formidable but beautiful cast iron gate guarding Rose's driveway. There was also a security camera perched high up on a nearby tree, so to gain entry, all Roxy had to do was lean out of the car window and let it spot her. The gates parted with a rusty groan that made you wince.

"She keeps the gate's hinges like that on purpose. I think it's supposed to be ominous," Roxy grumbled, putting the car into motion and starting up the winding path. The pavement looked out of place in the wild scenery, and there was still a ways to go before the house was even visible among the pines. You heard the roaring of rushing water long before you spotted the source of the sound.

Your jaw dropped when the house did come into view. You knew Roxy came from money, but the extravagance of the house she grew up in was beyond your expectations.

Built in a clearing on the edge of a cliff, the white house was artistically angular except for a domed observatory tower that stretched above the trees. A river ran through the enormous structure and over the side of the cliff to make a cascading waterfall. A walkway without railings stretched over the water to give access to the front door.

"Surprise! I guess the house is pretty big," Roxy said, parking the car neatly before unbuckling her seat belt. "The mausoleum I mentioned is out back. And, uh, we don't have to bring the carrier across the walkway. Just open it, and the cats will find their way."

The cats seemed to recognize where they were, meowing and pawing at the carrier's bars. "They certainly are in a tizzy," Jane said. She followed Roxy's instructions, and as soon as the car door opened a crack, the cats burst out. Three black streaks made for the front door.

Roxy hopped out and went to pop open the trunk. You were startled out of your thoughts by the car door slamming shut, hastily unbuckling your seat belt to follow after her. Between you, Jane, and Roxy, there were enough hands to carry all of the cat's belongings into the house in one trip.

You stacked three cat beds in your arms. The walkway was wide enough for the group to walk three abreast and have room to spare, but the drop into the water below still made you nervous. Roxy ushered you across faster than you would have liked, but in the end you made it safely to the front door where the cats had been waiting. They meowed insistently, winding around your ankles and threatening to trip you for the delay.

Roxy set down a plastic bin filled with cat toys, leashes, and dry food. "Hold on, I'll get the key."

A couple minutes passed while Roxy frowned, triple-checking her pockets and all of the compartments in her purse with no sign of said key. Eventually, Jane just reached out and gave the pristine door a couple solid knocks. 

These hinges were well-oiled, and the door swung open without warning. The cats abandoned the three of you and bounded towards the woman standing in the doorway.

"Roxy, you brought friends," Rose said. "Come in, I have the kettle on. There's tea, hot chocolate, or something a little stronger if that's what you prefer."

Rose Lalonde wore both her age and black lipstick well. She wore a white floor-length dress with pointed shoulder pads, and two silver knitting needles were tucked into one of the pockets. Her hair, the same white-blonde as Roxy's, was shot through with gray and gathered into a smooth updo. She honestly did look like a witch, and you had to appreciate the commitment to the look.

With so many hiding spots available in the mansion, the cats made themselves scarce almost immediately. Beckoning the group inside, Rose instructed everyone to leave all of the baggage by the doorway. She led you through rooms that were as elegant and rich as the house's exterior-- with a few exceptions. Around every corner, there were paintings, figurines, and other memorabilia dedicated to the ugliest and tackiest 90's wizards you'd ever seen. You tried to retain only a polite interest in the furnishings, but after following Rose into the living room, you couldn't help but exchange a dubious look with Jane. In the grand living room you met "Zazzerpan the Learned", a twenty-foot tall granite statue of yet another wizard. The other items in Rose Lalonde's odd collection couldn't hold a candle to Zazzerpan.

While you gazed up at the massive eyesore, unsure of whether to be appalled or delighted, Rose turned to you. "Admiring him?" she asked, and for all the world the question seemed serious.

"Yeah," you answered, a beat too late. "Yeah."

"He _is_ a fascinating specimen," Rose said pleasantly. As she turned away to continue the tour, you caught hint of a wicked grin.

Roxy gestured for you and Jane to hang back as Rose crossed the room without checking to see if the guests would follow. "Most of this wizard stuff is usually banished to a dark corner, but I guess my mom broke out the whole collection to see your guys' reaction," Roxy whispered. "And she's getting a real kick out of it."

You thought ironically owning "Zazzerpan the Learned" was an extreme way to mess with house guests, but evidently Rose could afford the crane it probably took to have the statue hoisted into the living room. The three of you hurried your steps to catch up with Rose, who had paused with a knowing smile at an elegant archway.

The tour ended in the kitchen, which was well stocked with both wizard figurines and alcohol. Before you could verbally accept the offer of tea, Rose pressed a hot cup of your favorite blend into your hands. Jane declined anything to drink, eyeing a wizard figurine with too many teeth like she was expecting it to come to life.

While Rose and Roxy helped themselves to the wine, laughing and chatting, you elbowed Jane. She elbowed you back, not taking her narrowed eyes off the wizard. You laughed behind your teacup, muttering, "You think that little guy is haunted? Here I was, thinking that you were the skeptic." 

"I am proud to be the skeptic, thank you very much. But you can't deny that all this is bound to give even the steeliest fella the heebie-jeebies! There's nothing magical about weird taste, and I don't think the decor is just for the irony. I think Roxy's mom just likes creepy wizards."

Your swept your gaze around the kitchen. For all of the eccentricities found here and anywhere else in the home, it was clean and furnished with top-of-the-line appliances. "I don't know if it's so bad. If rich people have to be eccentric, then Miss Lalonde doesn't disappoint," you replied. Jane snorted, shaking her head and finally tearing herself away from the staring contest with the little wizard. She situated herself on your other side to use your body as a shield from it, though.

You regarded the ugly figurine in amusement, but a glint out of the corner of your eye drew your attention away. You found yourself stepping forward to peer into an open doorway directly across from the kitchen. This was a sitting room doubling as a work space for what you assumed to be Rose's witchy hobbies. While hints of luxury were visible here and there, the jam-packed space was a contrast to the grand, wide-open opulence of the rest of the house. Velvet floor cushions were set around a circular table. Bookcases as tall as the ceiling took up two walls. These were stuffed with jars, candles, and thick, leather-bound tomes. Knitting projects in various stages of completion were scattered aimlessly across the fur rug. Through the organized chaos of scattered yarn, open books, candle stubs, and chalk circles, the thing that interested you the most was what sat on a cushion in the center of the table. You assumed it to be a crystal ball with a knitted handkerchief thrown over it. Sunlight filtering through gaps in the dark curtains caught the glossy surface peeking out from under the handkerchief, making it shine. 

"I see you've found my craft room!" Rose called. She clinked her full wineglass with her daughter's. "You can look around if you'd like. Be careful where you step and what you touch. I can't remember if I've left anything dangerous lying around."

Jane came to your side and rolled her eyes once her back was to Roxy and her mother. You plastered a smile on your face, thanking Rose before stepping into the craft room, Jane right behind you.

The false cheerfulness dropped after you closed the door partway. You weren't planning anything suspicious, but the idea of Rose's eyes on your back didn't sit well with you. The subjects of witchcraft or the Furthest Ring hadn't come up during the tour, but you were still unsure of Rose and her watchful gaze.

It was alright with just two people in the craft room, but fitting all four of the present company into the tight space would leave little room to breathe. Besides the bookcases, low tables and cupboards built from dark oak were shoved up under the windows and against the walls, making the small room even more cramped.

You expected a snarky comment about the spooky atmosphere from Jane, but she spotted something in one of the bookshelves and perked up. "By golly, I think that's a copy of Colonel Sassacre's!"

Jane crouched on the balls of her feet to be eye-level with a low shelf. Next to a mason jar filled with mysterious black liquid, you spotted the blue spine of the book your friend was so enamored with. "Colonel Sassacre's Daunting Text of Magical Frivolity and Practical Japery," Jane read, her head tilted. "It's the real deal!"

"That's cool," you said absentmindedly. Careful not to tread on any velvet cushions or stray knitting projects, you approached the crystal ball. It drew you like a moth to the flame.

You stopped in front of the round table and set your teacup down on a black book laying off to the side. You reached out to remove the handkerchief, but hesitated. Glancing behind you, you saw the door was partly closed, just as you left it, and Jane was preoccupied with the contents of the bookshelves. So what was wrong? Why didn't you just reach out and satisfy your curiosity?

_Do it_

The thought was like a nagging itch at the front of your mind. Still, you hesitated. The crystal ball wasn't as big as you would expect, and now that you were closer, you could see that it wasn't clear. Peeking out from under the handkerchief was a hint of pearly white. This probably wasn't a crystal ball at all, but whatever it was would fit snugly in the palm of your hand. You could easily take it, but you stopped yourself without really knowing why.

_Do it (do it)!_

_Ask and we will answer!_

These thoughts weren't your own, you realized with a jolt, shoving your hands in your pockets and retreating as if burned. Your back hit the bookshelves placed next to the door, and you fumbled with the handle to wrench the door open.

"What's wrong?" Jane asked with a frown, rising from her crouch and searching for the source of your strong reaction.

"Nothing," you said, but your own haunted expression was reflected back at you in the lenses of Jane's glasses. "I'm going to step out for a little while."

You turned, intent on fleeing until you found either an exit or a bathroom to isolate yourself in. Still, something in your head protested. Though your actions were your own, it felt as though an outside influence was impatiently tugging at your reigns, trying to lead you back to what lay underneath the handkerchief.

You didn't get to see how you would have fared, trying to squash down this outside influence by yourself. Rose blocked the doorway, and though your eyes saw that she was only a thin and frail old woman, the presence in your mind recoiled from her. In one wrinkled hand, Rose swirled her half-empty wineglass. In the other, she held her knitting needles like one would brandish a dagger. Roxy, standing behind her mother, gave you a worried look over Rose's shoulder. You ignored it.

"I can help you," Rose said calmly. 

"I don't think you can."

Rose stepped aside. Though she no longer physically blocked the doorway, her gaze pinned you in place. "You can leave anytime. The back door is four doors to the left. Head straight down the hall with the windows and my belladonna plants. Once you're in the backyard, Jasper's mausoleum is hard to miss. I think it would be an excellent place to find some solitude, if you can look past the morbidness."

You didn't move. "And if I stay, what's this help you're offering me?"

"I guess the best word for it would be an exorcism, though I'm loathe to use it. There aren't any demons or religion involved in what's bothering you, is there?"

"No. But I can't say the name."

"Then do you mind if I make some assumptions? Tell me if I'm wrong, but I think you had an unlucky brush with _Horrorterrors_. You went Grimdark, and though you survived, you never really shook off their influence." There was never any effect when other people said their name so long as you didn't utter it, but this time there was a slight, nervous twinge in the back of your mind when Rose said _Horrorterror_. Was this your own nervousness or someone else's? Maybe you could chalk this up to your hangover, maybe your imagination was just inspired by old trauma and the introduction of a supposed witch. 

_No. This is real. I can only deny it for so long,_ you thought.

You said, "So you think I'm possessed? I never thought of it that way." You, or at least the parts of your mind that you were pretty sure were _you_ , were strangely calm. "Roxy, do you know what Grimdarkness is?"

"No. We haven't had the full mission briefing yet. I didn't tell my mom anything about Horrorterrors, if that's what you're thinking," Roxy replied softly. 

"So how do you know such top secret information?" you asked Rose. "As far as I know, you have no ties to the Bureau of Cosmic Advancement except for Roxy. Don't give me any riddles or flowery language. Tell me."

Rose gave you a small, sad smile. She pushed past you, to the round table, and sat before it on one of the velvet cushions. "I was overconfident in my youth, and I suffered Grimdarkness from trying to control things that are beyond us. I recognize what's happened to you from what happened to me, though my case was much less extreme than yours," she said. "You visited the Furthest Ring and came face-to-face with the outer gods, while I was only able to speak to them through _this_." She tossed aside the handkerchief, and you almost laughed.

It wasn't a crystal ball after all, but a cue ball that looked tiny and innocent now that some of the mystery surrounding it was gone. "Aren't you supposed to use magic 8-balls for this sort of thing?" you asked with forced wryness. "This doesn't have a window to see the answers."

"This is a magic cue ball, and only those with some sort of enhanced vision can view the answers. Laugh all you want, I understand. It is a bit underwhelming at first glance."

Roxy entered the craft room, gently setting down her wineglass and quietly observing. She was wound up like a spring, but did not yet interfere. Jane, on the other hand, had been simmering in quiet outrage that peaked at this moment.

"An exorcism, a seance, or whatever you're trying to do isn't going to help anything! Phony magic remedies aren't worth our time," Jane snapped, threading her fingers with yours and Roxy's, as if to anchor the two of you in place with her grip. "What [Name] needs is a therapist, for crying out loud! I'm sorry, [Name], and to you too, Roxy, but we should leave."

Jane tugged your hand, moving to storm back to the car with you and Roxy in tow. You didn't let her move you, gently prying your hand out of her grip.

"I'm not upset," you told Jane. "And I have been seeing a therapist, actually. It's a little bit hard when I have to gloss over government secrets and space aliens, but it has been helping. I don't have much to lose, guys, so I want to see what this exorcism and seance deal is all about. I haven't committed to anything Rose is offering, and if I don't like it, I won't go through with it."

Jane was so angry, you watched her face slowly turn a rather alarming shade of red. She took in a breath that puffed her cheeks out, and when you began to fear a fiery outburst, she instead exhaled a slow sigh. "I guess. . . if you want to. . . Oh, criminy, we're all just each other's enablers. I'll stick around for this, but we have to draw the line somewhere! If it gets really fishy, and I mean like cult stuff, then I'm throwing you over my shoulder and scampering out of here no matter what you say!"

"It's a deal, captain." You shook on it.

Roxy remained quiet for a minute longer, staring at her mother with narrowed eyes. Rose nodded at her daughter in what you supposed was reassurance, and Roxy averted her gaze to the cue ball. "Let's take a seat, guys," Roxy said.

So you sat on the floor before the table, directly across from Rose with your friends on either side. The magic cue ball was in easy reach, but you tried not to look at it. Rose picked up a black book, the one you'd set your teacup on earlier, and started rifling through the pages. It was a hefty volume, though nowhere near the weight and density of a copy of Colonel Sassacre's. You tilted your head to read the title stamped across the front: _Grimoire for Summoning the Zoologically Dubious_. Beneath the bold letters was a simplistic, almost cute, depiction of a Horrorterror.

"We aren't summoning anything, are we? Just. . . expelling?" you asked with a sense of mounting dread.

"Correct. Well, we're not summoning anything that's not already there," Rose said. She lay the book flat on the table, so you and your friends could glimpse the pages as she continued to quickly flip through them. You saw what looked like profiles for individual Horrorterrors, each one complete with an illustration.

Before, it was easy to think of the Horrorterrors as monsters all similar in their evil intent, perhaps a hive mind, but to know that they had separate names and enough individuality to fill an entire book with profiles. . . you weren't sure if this made you feel worse or not.

"Were you given a name? Did you speak with just one?" Rose asked, pausing on one page with the name " _Fluthulu, Foul Patrician of Misery"_. She didn't look at you, eyes roving over lines of black text.

"I think it was just one, but they had many voices. . ." You clutched the back of your head in anticipation of pain or disorientation. You were still afraid to speak of the Horrorterrors, indirectly or not. "I remember they called themselves a Smaller God?"

"Alright. That's not as bad as it could be," Rose muttered. "With all the years I've been meddling with the Horrorterrors, I still don't know that much about them. I do know that they have a hierarchy, and the Smaller Gods are at the bottom of it. Then there are the Middling Gods, and at the top is the Noble Circle of Horrorterrors."

"Are you _sure_ that the things in the Furthest Ring are the same eldritch monsters written in this book?" Jane butted in. She eyed the cue ball disdainfully. "The aliens in the Ring were discovered about a year ago. I'm guessing you've been at witchcraft for a very long time, and this _Grimoire_ looks just as old. Er-- sorry. I'm not trying to poke fun at your age and the fact that I'm still being suspicious must be bothersome, but I'm just saying that it doesn't add up!"

"Okay, Jane, I know we aren't on the same page," you said tiredly. "Basically, I hear voices. They're the same voices that drove my old crew insane. Over the past year I've been ignoring them, doing my best not to say _their_ name, because when I think about them too hard, I stop being myself."

"Say the name," Rose said. "Say Horrorterror."

" _Why_?"

"If I'm going to banish them, we need to draw them out."

You hesitated, eyes meeting Roxy's. If anyone knew about Rose's credibility when it came to the paranormal, it was Rose's own daughter. Roxy was clasping her hands so tightly her knuckles were white, but she gave you a nod. "Trust her," she said quietly.

"Horrorterror," you said. The answer was immediate, and louder than any of the whispers you'd heard since you met them a year ago.

**_"We've heard your calling."_ **

**_"You have troubles? We have power, enough to share."_ **

**_"You want answers? We know everything! Nothing escapes."_ **

**_"Let us in. You're still resisting. Look into the cue ball, and you will know all you need. A gift!"_ **

**_"It's so wonderful, being a part of something. You are alone and you weak, but we can make you strong. What do you have to lose?"_ **

"Rose," you said hoarsely. You might have been crying. "There's so many. They're in my head."

You couldn't take your eyes off the cue ball, but you could distantly register what was happening around you through the reflections swimming on its glossy surface. A hand grasped yours tightly-- Jane was speaking, and she was furious, furious at Rose. There was a metallic hiss as Rose drew her knitting needles out of her pocket, the needles rubbing together.

You stopped seeing the reflections on the cue ball's surface, and started looking past it, to what lay inside. It was fascinating, like looking into nothing and everything all at once.

_**"What you see is potential waiting to be fulfilled! The cue ball is a powerful instrument wasted in the hands of one who has rejected the outer gods."** _

_**"Ask it anything. Ask about us."** _

_**"You want to know, don't you? When you see us again we'll be so happy.** _ _**We'll be so happy to have you!"** _

You did have a lot of questions, you realized sluggishly. Before you could make sense of them, most of your thoughts were lost to the comfortable static buzzing inside your mind. It would be easy to ask the cue ball, if only you could form the words.

**_"We'll tell you what to say! Are you listening?"_ **

"Yes," you whispered.

" _No_ ," someone said. This voice did not come from the Ring. You thought it sounded like Rose.

" ** _Not friendly_** ," the Horrorterrors whispered, but it was too late. An arm swept the cue ball off the table, and you were startled out of your trance and into the present.

Roxy kicked the cue ball underneath a cupboard. "[Name]? Can you hear me?" she asked, giving you a halfhearted wave.

" _Give it back_ ," you said. The shadows in the room sang to you like never before. Your skin was ashen, the color leeched from your hair, and as your eyes bathed the room in a dim glow, you smiled. "Do you really want me to take it?"

" _ **You're doing so well! There is still a little resistance in you. Just let us in, give it all to us, and our power will move through you! You, our champion!"**_

"This isn't funny," Jane shrilled. She slowly released your hand. "Guys, this isn't funny." 

"It's not," Rose said. She stood to her full height, needlewands crackling with white light, but she was too small and inconsequential. She was no threat to you, not when you belonged to the outer gods.

Roxy was shouting and pleading, but the prattling of mortals was no longer your concern. Once the Horrorterrors accepted you as their own, you'd be able to shut them all up. "You want it all?" you asked the Horrorterrors. "What else is there to give?"

" ** _We want every scrap of your heart, your hopes, your dreams. We want every part of your human mind that makes you separate, so that we can replace it and make you the same."_**

"Oh, I'll stop you right there," Rose said, almost bored. "Being a pawn isn't nearly as fun as they make it sound."

"You can't hear them sing anymore," you snapped. "You rejected them!"

" ** _Be righteous. Kill her."_**

"When it comes to persuasion, they'll say the same things every time. Come back to us, [Name]. You're making your friends very upset. Poor Jane is having an existential crisis."

"I'm taking the cue ball and I'm leaving." You stood, staring down Roxy, who guarded the cupboard as if she stood a chance. "Get out of my way."

"You're too cocky," Rose muttered, twirling her needlewands and striking you.

White-hot energy cut through you, enveloping your body in _pain_. You doubled over, screaming with the Horrorterrors as one, and you stopped feeling that safe sense of belonging when the voices in your mind no longer sang so sweetly. 

_**"Kill her!Kill her!Kill her!Kill her!Kill her!"** _

**_"It hurts!"_ **

**_"Kill her!Kill her!Kill her!Kill her!Kill her!"_ **

But you couldn't. Though Rose's bonds with the Furthest Ring had been severed, she still drew power from an unknown source, and the Grimdark power the Horrorterrors had promised you was not yet given. The crackling energy from the needlewands felt like lightning on your skin, and was just as bright.

" _ **You know what to do, useless, insolent thing! Give yourself to the Ring! Kill the Seer of Light."**_

Rose did not let up her attacks, striking the weak points of your stomach, knees, and face, but she made no move to maim or kill you. She only wanted you to suffer. Through it all, you felt a sensation on the back of your head, like an invisible hand was loosening its grip.

You made no more cries of pain, sucking in air through your clenched teeth instead. The white light hurt your eyes, so you squeezed them shut. The pain was debilitating, and inch by inch you forced yourself to move in a weak crawl across the floor. _But what am I moving to?_ you thought, and the thought was your own. 

_" **The cue ball!"**_

_But why?_

_Why do I need to kill Rose?_

_" **She is only making us hurt! She is old and frail, hanging on to the last scrap of her mortal life. The Seer wants the cue ball for herself!"**_

All at once, the attack stopped. It took all your strength to hold yourself up on your hands and knees, and you stared at the dark floorboards, trying to amass enough strength to raise your head.

When you did, you saw Jane standing in front of you. Her arms were spread wide in a protective stance, as if she intended on blocking the next burst of Rose's lightning. Grappling with Rose for her needlewands was Roxy.

"Get out of my way," Rose told her daughter firmly. Roxy had the advantage of youth on her side, but Rose was surprisingly physically strong. The two were locked in a stalemate, with Roxy's hands clamped around Rose's wrists, struggling to forcefully point the needlewands away from you.

"Mom," Roxy said, face hard. "You're hurting them. I don't think this is right."

"A little pain is an easy sacrifice when it comes to this! You want your friend to be a slave forever?"

"Maybe we can spare those two," you whispered. "Roxy and Jane. They made me a cake."

**_"No, No, No! These earthly bonds are keeping you from reaching your full potential!"_ **

**_"Shameful!"_ **

**_"You have us! We are constant, we will love you forever, and we will always have use for you. Let go of your humanity. Killing these humans will in turn kill your weakness!"_ **

Hot blood dripped from your ears and your nose, filling your mouth with the taste of copper. Red droplets spattered on your splayed hands. "But I _am_ human. I don't want to kill them. I don't want to look into the cue ball." You started at a whisper, and your words grew steadily louder until they were a roar. "I don't want what you're offering me! Leave me alone! _Get out of my head!_ "

Rose stomped on Roxy's foot with the heel of her stiletto, finally managing to push her daughter to the floor. Ignoring the screaming ache in your very bones, you forced yourself to stumble to your feet and knock an unsuspecting Jane aside. There was a clear path for Rose to take the shot.

Roxy was off the floor and tackling her mother within a few seconds, but it was a few seconds too late. That last burst of energy from Rose's needlewands was the strongest of all, and you were unconscious before your limp body hit the floor.

* * *

It was a dreamless sleep, the most peaceful rest you had in a long time. Like all good things, it didn't last. Slowly, sensations from the real world drew you out of it, until all at once you were blinking your bleary eyes awake and wondering exactly how much alcohol you had during the disco-tech wedding gig.

A view of the upholstery on the ceiling of Roxy's car confused you. You were lying on your back, legs hanging out of the trunk. A familiar person sat crossed-legged by your head, taking up what little room remained. It was Jane, hiding her face in her hands with the bulk of Colonel Sassacre's lying in her lap.

You went to move your arm, to raise yourself up or reach out to Jane, but instant, searing pain persuaded you against it. Your eyes watered. _What happened?_

Suddenly you were able to pick out the sound of roaring water in the background.

"Wh-what?" you asked. "Is that--"

And then it hit you. Pain be damned, you managed to raise your body just enough to spot the outside of Rose Lalonde's pristine Mcmansion, and you remembered _exactly_ what had happened. Groaning, you flopped back down and hoped the pain arcing throughout your upper body would ease. There were no visible scratches, burns, or marks on your skin to give any outward indication of what you felt like on the inside.

"You're alive!" Jane gasped, rubbing at her eyes harshly. They were watery, and the skin around her face was red, but she blinked rapidly and managed a smile.

"I almost wish I wasn't," you wheezed, but Jane scowled and raised Colonel Sassacre's threateningly. "Joking, joking! It just kinda hurts to move right now, _please_ don't whack me."

Jane eased up and sighed, turning the book over in her hands to idly scan the back. "Rose let me keep this. She said that to her, it has no value for reading material, and she was just keeping it around because it could potentially crush a man's skull. Hmph! I guess I was waiting around until you woke up, and if you were still possessed I was gonna try and thump some sense back into you. How do you feel?"

"More like myself," you admitted. "Even though it also feels like I've been hit by a bus. Damn, I'm sorry for thinking about killing you back there, and I'm sorry for actually trying to kill Rose! Where is she? Where's Roxy?"

"Rose is just fine. The old lady's got some spunk in her, and maybe being a bonafide witch gives you some kind of eternal youth. She's just tired and probably very drunk by now. She started tipping back the wine while Roxy and I carried you out here. I think they're having some mother-daughter time at the moment."

"So that's it? I'm cured? The witch gave me the A-okay while I was knocked out?"

"I guess so. Rose didn't say much of anything I could understand after she zapped you unconscious. She took a funky sledgehammer and the cue ball out to the yard. Then she just started going at it, smashing the cue ball, and it _exploded_. Like a literal firework, with smoke and fire and what-have-you! There's a crater out behind the house, now. I don't know what to think."

You laughed weakly. "That magic is real?"

". . . _Ugh."_

It was hard to believe that your torment might be over. In the course of an afternoon you'd received a diagnosis of _possession by eldritch space gods_ and went straight to the treatment: a magical exorcism performed by your friend's mom. "It's okay, Jane," you said, though you weren't sure if you believed it. "I don't know what to think, either."

But, you realized, there was one ultimate test to see if you were cured after all. "Horrorterror," you said. "Horrorterror, Horrorterror, Horrorterror--"

Jane shrieked and clobbered you with Colonel Sassacre's, effectively shutting you up and sending fresh pain coursing through your body. You almost didn't care, laughing and halfheartedly shielding yourself from Jane's attacks by curling up on your side. 

"No possession!" you yelled. _Is she using a book or a brick? "_ Ow, ow, ow, Jane it's okay! The Horrorterrors are gone! Stop, jeez!"

Jane paused with the book raised over your stomach, ready to be brought down again at a moment's notice. "So--no mind control?"

"No mind control! It's me!"

"You can't just scare a girl like that!" she replied hotly, tossing Colonel Sassacre's off the the side. "Good golly, I don't know whether leaving my strife specibus at home was a good thing or not!"

"Well, unfortunately for me, it doesn't _feel_ like there's much of a difference between getting hit by your spoon and getting hit by Colonel Sassacre's Skull Crusher."

"Right. Sorry."

You laughed again, rolling onto your back and feeling a beaming smile stretch across your face. "Damn. I'm _free_."

Jane propped her elbows up on her knees and leaned forward, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before asking, "What was it like? The possession."

"It was dormant. It wasn't like the. . . the Horrorterrors were taking control of my body when I was asleep or anything. I just heard their voices in my head, and they would suggest things. Sometimes I'd confuse their whispers with my own thoughts, and I don't know if I caught myself every time. Like. . . once, in the middle of the night, there was this thought in my head that I was too far away from something. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that it was in space and I had to do whatever I could to get back. I went outside in my pajamas, without a coat or shoes or anything. When I felt how cold the pavement was under my feet, I snapped out of it. I'm still not sure where I was even going to go. To the BCA offices downtown? I tried not to think about it, and I just went back to bed. Ha. I was pretty determined to ignore all that shit, and when these kinds of things happened, I just told myself that it was my imagination."

"What's the deal with not being able to say Horrorterror?"

"Well, like I said, I was trying my best not to stir up any bad memories or think about the weird stuff that was actually happening in the present. But when I actually said Horrorterror out loud, it just. . . summoned them or something. The voices got louder, and less subtle."

"So. . . Hmm. I guess it's unavoidable. What happened to you might happen to the crew they're sending off to Alternia."

". . . There's always a chance that you guys might get off scot-free. But I don't know how the Empress could protect you guys, or if you can even protect yourselves. Just don't listen to their voices, and never, ever ask questions."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"Jane, do you still want to go?"

"Well, I'm definitely a lot less excited after seeing all that stuff today. But besides any legal problems that might come up if I ditch the mission now, I still feel like I have to go to Alternia because. . . of a sense of duty. I don't know if I'd be able to trust whatever poor sod they'd use to replace me as captain. Do you think that makes me an idiot?"

"Yeah. But I guess I can understand, too. Here's hoping that the trolls aren't worse than the Horrorterrors."

"I'd like to share this entire disastrous day-trip with Dirk and Jake, if you're comfortable with that. I think it's a fair warning to them, if they even believe this nonsense." 

"Go ahead. It's a sucky time to be captain, eh? But Jane, you're way more stubborn than I ever was. That has to count for something."

Jane poked your shoulder, but perhaps to make up for the sound walloping she'd given you a few minutes ago, it was with only the barest touch. Her smile was real, this time. "Y'know, when people say things like that, it's usually not a compliment. But thank you, [Name]. I'm going to have a long, hard talk with the Director after this."

"I'm going to have a long, hard sleep," you groaned. "I have another gig at seven PM tomorrow, so that gives me at least thirteen hours."

"Another wedding?"

"No, actually. This one's a paternity photo shoot, and the client seems to be a perfectly nice lady. I swear, it's going to be normal. I'l make tomorrow the most normal, boring day I've ever had."

"Good luck with that."

"Good luck to you, too. You need it more than I do."

* * *

While the day was moving past sunset and into night, you spotted Roxy trudging across the walkway, heading towards the car. Her springy hair lay flat, and with her rumpled clothes, your normally lively friend looked worse for the wear. Perhaps the fight with her mom had taken more out of Roxy than you'd thought. You hoped the mother and daughter had made their peace, especially since you were the reason things went downhill in the first place.

"Jane, you're going to have to drive," Roxy said, forgoing her usual greeting. "I've got a little bit of a buzz going on here."

The sharp pain had dulled down to a bearable ache by that point, and you were given the back seat to yourself. The carrier was tossed into the trunk, and with the cats and their belongings safe with Rose, there was now enough room for you to stretch out on your side and drift off.

There were no nightmares, and no dreams at all. 

This time it was Roxy who shook you awake, a streetlight shining on the opposite side of the road making the edges of her silhouette glow gold. It took you a few grasping seconds to sit up and regain your bearings, but you realized that the car was parked in front of your apartment building. It was well into the night by now.

Jane, sitting in the driver's seat, gave you a nod and a smile that you returned after a jaw-splitting yawn.

"So. . . we're here," Roxy said. "Look, I'm sorry about all the stuff that happened today."

"No, I'm sorry. I caused you, Jane, and your mom a lot of trouble. Actually, that's an understatement."

"The Horrorterrors were making you do it! Besides, we stood by and let my mom torture you!"

"Well-- it worked, and I don't think anyone should be sorry for that. All in all, I can say the word _Horrorterror_ now, and I haven't had anymore weird dreams so far. Fingers crossed, I think any nightmares I do have from now on are just going to be the usual kind people get from bad experiences! And not, like, eldritch gods trying to mind control me."

" _Okay_ that's great and I really mean it, but take my apology!"

"Take mine!"

"We're all sorry," Jane butted in. "And if everyone's throwing their two cents in here, then I'm sorry, Roxy, for being an asshole skeptic, and to you, [Name], for not taking your warnings about the Furthest Ring as seriously as I should have. Let's all forgive each other, shall we? Do I need to make you guys shake on it? I'm making you shake on it, put'er there."

So there was three-way forgiveness, and it was time you went home and back to sleep. Roxy and Jane offered to walk you back to your apartment, but you shooed them back into the car and shut the door.

Roxy stuck her head out of the passenger seat window and blew you a kiss. "We'll have to do this again sometime! Well, not-- you know what I mean!"

"Next time, we'll have a _safe_ and _fun_ hangout!" Jane added.

"Are you sure? I think having an element of danger keeps things fresh!" you called wryly, waving goodbye.

" _Too soon_!"

You stood on the sidewalk and watched your friends drive away, suddenly feeling very lonely.

 _But am I alone?_ you thought, pausing there under the glow of a streetlight. You studied the still street around you, searching for any hint of otherworldly presence in the darkness: the silhouette of tentacles, or an eye that did not belong to a face. You even closed your eyes and concentrated, in case your instincts would let you know if you were being watched.

There was nothing. You were alone except for the company of that streetlamp. 

_Well, great. Let's not jinx it._ You turned and headed inside.

There wasn't the desperate need to turn on all the lights in your apartment anymore, but out of habit you did so anyways. Sitting at your kitchen table with a warm mug clasped in your hands, you had time to think about what exactly you wanted to do now. Carry on with your life like before, just without the additional threat of going Grimdark?

Eventually, you finished your drink, shut off all the lights (electricity bills and all), and went to bed.

The next morning was, indeed, normal. The world would keep on turning no matter your state of affairs, but it seemed the universe wanted to reward you with suddenly nice weather. Not too hot, not too cold, with the sun shining and the city bright.

You weren't really concerned with going out and enjoying it, though you did open some of the blinds as a second thought. You spent the morning prattling around the apartment, rearranging things and aimlessly scrolling through your phone. You felt like a tiger pacing in its cage, just killing time until seven PM rolled around for the paternity photo shoot.

You considered sleeping the day away like you'd told Jane, but a part of you was afraid that the pleasant oblivion you were finding in your sleep as of late wouldn't last. Besides, you were buzzing with restless energy.

You rearranged the living room three times, slapped together breakfast and lunch, and then there was a knock at the door interrupting your internal debate over whether to scrub the bathroom tiles or do a little sweeping. For a brief, hopeful moment you thought it might be Jane and Roxy again, but you opened the door to meet a mailman with a package addressed to you.

One glance at the return address, and your blood ran cold. You accepted the package despite your misgivings, and once the mailman was sent on his way, you set it down on the living room floor for a thorough inspection. The package was made of sturdy cardboard and was lightweight enough to carry in one hand. Shaking the box had no effect, and there was nothing to hint at its contents except for the identity of the sender: Rose Lalonde the bonafide witch. There didn't _seem_ to be anything magical or dangerous about the package.

"Oh, what the hell," you muttered aloud. "At this point, whatever happens, happens."

Using a pair of scissors doubling as both a box-opener and a means of defense, you opened the package slowly and carefully just in case it was booby-trapped.

It wasn't. Nestled in layers of packing foam was another box, the kind of sleek and minimal packaging found in tech stores. Your confusion only grew when you opened the second box and saw a camera. It wasn't just _any_ camera, though, this was top-of-the-line and worth enough money to make you dizzy. Light enough to be strung around the neck or slipped into a pocket, it was barely the size of a hand, with interchangeable lenses that could expand and retract for easy storage. The instruction booklet boasted that the " _beautiful design does not sacrifice functionality or durability_." You. . . weren't sure about durability. The camera might have been made in part as a fashion statement with how sleek and fragile it was. Along the side, there was a silver engraving of your name. All in all, this kind of camera often featured in your daydreams about a more successful life, where blowing cash on something like this was acceptable.

Flattened under the camera's packaging was an honest-to-god roll of parchment, sealed with a purple wax crest. At first you thought the crest might of been a Horrorterror, but it seemed to be the logo of those kid toys--squiddles?-- redrawn to look menacing.

"Alright, Rose," you said, not bothering to fight a grin as you reached for the parchment. "You have flair."

_[Name],_

_Congratulations on being alive and relatively free. The pain from my needlewand strikes has probably faded by now, and I hope it has. If not, then I must apologize, and you should visit me again to see if we can undo whatever blunders I might have caused. I was being far from careful during your "exorcism"._

_I'm writing to tell you that you might not be entirely out of the woods yet. Paradox space despises coincidences, and I don't think it is a coincidence that you managed to survive the Horrorterrors. It's not a coincidence that I survived, either, but we can only wait and see what else this timeline has in store for us. Whatever you do or whatever happens, I hope you are happy in the end._

_One more thing. I let people call me a witch--mostly your friend Jane, nice girl, but she seems like a bit of a tightass-- because it's easier for them to understand and it requires less explaining on my part. I don't think "witch" is the right term for what I am. I'm the Seer of Light. It's a grand title for something that's not much use in the real world. The gist is that I tend to find the most favorable outcome. I see things others can't. The greatest proof of this is that I was able to look into the cue ball unassisted. Do with this information what you will, I just thought that it would be nice for someone to know._

_\--Rose Lalonde_

_P.S. Don't even think of paying me back for the camera. I hope it's to your liking, as I really know nothing of photography._

If magic was real, then you could handle Rose having a fancy title like the " _Seer of Light_ ," whatever that meant. There was no hope of you being able to repay Rose's gift in cash, but there had to be _something_ nice for you to do as thanks. She seemed to like her wine, but whatever vintage blends she already had were probably better and more expensive than what you could bring from Walmart. You could probably find something wizard themed at a thrift store, though. . .

As you listed out possibilities for Rose's thank-you gift in your head, your fingers traced the smooth lines and engraved letters on your new camera. Booting it up, you messed around with the settings and decided to snap a picture of the sunlight streaming through your blinds. The camera had a fully colored hologram display that took a minute to figure out, but soon it was projecting your crystal-clear image in a rectangular display as wide as your desk. With childlike glee, you blew up the picture to the maximum setting. Walking around, it was like you were clipping through the floor in a video game, and you had to be careful not to kick the camera from its place on the floor. The minimum hologram setting was the size of your thumbnail.

After flipping through the instruction booklet and finding that the battery life was 72 hours, you were beginning to see exactly why it was so expensive. The sun was still out and still bright, casting the room in a cheery glow. You paused from your inspection of Rose's gift to cross over to a window over the kitchen sink. You drew the blinds and opened it, leaning out over the street and watching people scurry like ants far below.

 _There's still plenty of time before 7 PM._ You idly turned the camera over in your hands. _I can go out, see the park and take some pictures. . . go find a thrift store on the way. . ._

It wasn't a normal day. It was a nice one. Smiling, you gathered the torn-up packaging off the floor, being careful to set Rose's letter on the kitchen counter where it wouldn't be mistaken for trash. You grabbed a jacket and stepped out of the apartment.

* * *

The Director picked up the phone on the first ring.

"Nice weather we're having," you said, slapping the side of the Monocle to try and make the earpiece stop emitting static.

"I haven't been outside all day. Hello, [Name]."

That woman had to know exactly why you were calling, but she allowed you a long pause to find your words. "So. Have any of Earth's Finest opted out?" you asked.

"Nope, but Captain Jane Crocker did storm into my office and demand a meeting. She called over the rest of her crew and told this buck-wild story about an exorcism. You were in it."

"There this road trip . . . but that's not what I'm here to talk about! I looked over the contract you sent me. I'd like to suggest some changes."

"Oh?" You could _hear_ her shit-eating smile. "So you're thinking about signing onto the mission? I almost can't believe it took paranormal intervention."

"Oh, don't push it. I have some conditions. You said you wanted me to come along because I have experience with making negotiations and because I'm a photographer. If I'm gonna sign onto this mission, it's going to be as a photographer and not as a diplomat. I can write up some journals and captions for further documentation of our stay on Alternia, and I'll even give the crew a word of advice or two, but I don't want to be anywhere but the sidelines."

"Sounds like it'd be hard to stick to the sidelines when you're one of only five humans on an alien planet."

"The last time I was in charge of anything, it was a disaster. I'm not interested in doing anything but compile information and do some alien sightseeing, given the Horrorterrors don't kill us first."

"I think you understand that if you show up on Alternia, you will be representing humanity regardless of your individual job title."

"I'll show up to meetings, smile, look pretty or whatever, but I don't want to speak. The rest of the crew are the spokespeople, and I will take pictures of them."

"Good pictures?"

You tried not to sound too ruffled. "What do you take me for?"

"It's a deal. Show up at my office at 9 AM sharp tomorrow so we can finalize your contract."

"I-- really?"

"Yes, really!"

"That's it? No catch?"

"Is it a pay raise you want next? It'll be tricky, but if you _insist_ \--"

"Ugh, don't make me say something I'll regret, especially since I seem to be working for the BCA again and you outrank me now. I'll see you at the office," you grumbled. "9 AM _sharp_."

The Director laughed, and its sincerity was proven by how unprofessional it sounded: snorting and honking bicycle horn noises. Wherever she was on the other end of the line, she must have been alone.

"Have a _good day_ , Director."

"Wait, wait, before you go! I want you to keep the wraps on this possession thing, alright? It sounds like a horrible thing to ask, but so far the only people who know about Grimdarkness' lingering effects are me, you, and Jane's crew. I believe it, but my superiors are less likely to be so open-minded. They may take you off the mission if they find out."

". . . Fine."

"I appreciate it. Have a _good day!"_ To your indignation, she was the first to hang up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ancestors show up in the next chapter, and those of you who've read the first draft of this fic will probably recognize parts of it. This is a no sburb/sgrub au set in the future, so elements of the game get to exist through sci-fi technology and magic. If there are any actual photographers reading this, feel free to call me out on inaccuracies.
> 
> I read everyone's comments, but I don't always respond because I don't want to sound too repetitive. They do make me really happy though! Thx so much for the support, and I hope everyone stays safe during quarantine. <3


	4. Alternia

**Reader**

The next day, you were _exactly_ on time for your meeting with the Director.

Walking through the glass doors of the BCA headquarters was a strange experience, one which you had never expected to have again after you had quit your job there. The lobby was exactly as you remembered it: sleek and minimalist with concrete, glass, and tall ceilings in dull tones of gray and off-white. Beneath your feet, the BCA logo was etched into the glossy concrete floor. It was a simplistic and colorless depiction of Earth, with the words "Peace, Prosperity, Pursuit of Knowledge" on a banner wrapping around the planet.

The man working the front desk was a new addition to your eyes, and he greeted you with a flicker of quickly-hidden apprehension. 

_I wonder if he recognizes me just from rumors_ _._ You smiled at the man as if nothing was out of the ordinary. With no I.D. to present, you weren't quite sure what to do with your hands-- you stormed out of this building one year ago with the intent of never returning, and had tossed your I.D. card into the lobby's fireplace on the way out. There were at least three panic buttons hidden around the front desk area. Without any identification from you, the secretary could have you thrown out by security for one wrong look.

"Good morning. I'm scheduled for a meeting with Cara Berger, the Director, at 9 AM," you said. You had prepped yourself for this conversation by rehearsing lines all throughout the long drive from your apartment. "I don't have a BCA I.D., but will my driver's license work?"

The secretary gave you a sideways glance. "She's out at the moment. Can I have your name?"

_Out? What the fuck happened to 9 AM sharp? Against all odds, I decided to come crawling back here and sign myself away to a really bad idea, and she ditches me?_

Your pleasant smile betrayed none of these inner thoughts. You gave the man your name, and his eyebrows shot up. "Can I see that driver's licence?" he asked. 

You gave him that, too, and he spent a few minutes studying it from every angle and ho-humming under his breath. He crossed over to the monitor and started tapping away on the holo-keyboard without sparing a glance your way. Just when you were beginning to truly sweat, he returned your driver's licence by sliding it across the marble counter.

"You're in the clear," he said. "You're a former employee here?"

"Uh. Yeah."

"Cool. Welcome back. The Director is waiting for you in her office on the third floor. Do you need an escort?"

"No, no, I know the way. Thank you." You ducked into the elevator without another word, breathing one long sigh of relief when the doors slid shut and blocked the secretary's hawk-eyed stare.

Thankfully, there were no other delays. The door to the Director's corner office had a gold plate with her name on it, and on its polished surface you stared at your reflection, trying to scrape up enough willpower to knock. You were tired, not from Horrorterror-related nightmares, but from laying awake all night and wondering if you were going to regret signing onto the Alternian mission.

On the other side of the door, a crash and a loud curse broke you out of your thoughts. Pushing your doubts aside, you figured that this was as good of a time as any to knock.

"Come in!" the Director called. 

Cara Berger, the Director, was a round black woman with a penchant for wearing navy blue suits and tying her dreadlocks back into a ponytail. She had barely changed from the last time you'd seen her, from her overworked smile to the way she was now standing ankle-deep in loose papers.

"Look at all this paperwork!" she said, motioning to the somewhat neat stacks on her desk. "Lord knows why we haven't gone completely digital. For the past couple weeks I've been waiting for myself to knock over some of these piles, and it finally happened."

"Am I allowed to help you pick this up, or am I supposed to look away from any potential government secrets?" you asked.

The Director flapped a hand, crouching to scoop up a handful of paper and toss it onto what little free space remained on her desk. "By all means, help your superior out. Just get it off the floor, and I'll organize it later. We have a lot of stuff to go over, and very little time because my every waking moment is booked." She glanced at a pricey-looking gold watch. "Oh, you're here and it's 9 AM sharp. Good for you."

You grunted in lieu of a snarky reply, gathering the remaining loose papers into your arms and dumping them onto the desk.

The Director plopped down onto her cushy office chair and beckoned for you to take a seat across her desk. She had to carefully scoot aside a few stacks of paperwork so the two of you could actually see each other.

She cleared her throat and said, "So to begin with, Earth's Finest is going to get a new _everything_ for this mission. There's a new ship, some new tech including Strider's Auto-Responder, and a new wardrobe for each member. Appearances are pretty important for a first impression, and there are a _ton_ of rules, etiquette, and confidentiality guidelines for you to study. There's the standard stuff you'll remember from previous missions to Derse and Prospit, but there's also much, much more." The Director slapped a plastic binder onto the desk, and several stacks of papers teetered dangerously. You, more gently, lay the binder in your lap and started to flip through pages and pages of tiny text. The binder had to weigh about five pounds, but you nodded in wary acceptance.

"You have three weeks to prepare. The other crew members have had four months already, so we'd better hop to it and schedule some appointments. You'll probably have to parade around in front of our bosses so they hopefully won't be so mad about me letting you onto this mission last-minute. . ."

It was the busiest, most nerve-wracking three weeks of your life. The Director wasn't kidding about those appointments. You needed measurements for your new uniform selections. You needed to familiarize yourself with the new ship and make an inventory of all the camera equipment needed to bring on the mission. You had to update your profile in the BCA's system and get another I.D. as the newest member of Jane Crocker's crew. You had to move out of your apartment and get rid of anything you could bear to part with. The Bureau of Cosmic Advancement paid for your stay at a hotel until the day Earth's Finest left orbit, because you and the rest of the crew were going to be off-world for a total of one year and six months, if everything went according to plan. If there were any hangups, the mission could take even longer.

To get to Alternia, one starship would have to do what the _Skylark_ could not, and travel safely through the Furthest Ring. This time, you and the rest of the passengers wouldn't be conscious to experience being so close to the Horrorterrors. Her Imperious Condescension emphasized that Earth's Finest needed to remain in Hypersleep during the journey to and from Alternia. The Auto-Responder would have to pilot the ship while the humans on board were unconscious, because it wasn't as if the Condescension was in easy reach to negotiate her terms.

You weren't sure if knowing about the Hypersleep made it easier for you to sign the contract. It would be great not to be awake to feel your impending doom draw near, right? You had gone under short bouts of Hypersleep as part of astronaut training on Earth, but even in later years as a captain taking increasingly dangerous missions, none of those missions had ever required Hypersleep. A few weeks from now you would close your eyes and wake up to several months' time gone, a new planet in sight. If you never woke up, well, that had to be a more peaceful way to die than the deaths fate had dealt the _Skylark's_ old crew.

That's what you kept telling yourself as three weeks sped by faster than you had thought possible. It was true that you felt fear, but there was also a heady sense of anticipation. It took some of the weight off your shoulders, knowing that you were no longer a captain. You didn't envy Jane for her role of leadership, but she showed no signs of buckling under the pressure. As captain of the _Skylark_ , you had been dangerously cocky. Jane, though she couldn't fully understand how it felt to encounter a Horrorterror, had an appropriate sense of wariness for the journey ahead.

She still tried to keep spirits up, though. Three days before takeoff, the whole crew squeezed some time out of their schedules to enjoy a homemade cake and celebrate the naming of their new ship: the _Lover._ It was small, but for five people it was more than enough. What mattered was that it was fast, sleek, and the best spacecraft human engineers could offer.

It was the Director that chose the name off the top of her head, after two and a half weeks of disagreement between Jane and her crew. Jane had held out for the name _Jolene_ , you didn't care so long as it wasn't anything remotely similar to the _Skylark_ , and Roxy was always suggesting something new and ridiculous along the lines of the _Vodka Mutiny_ and the _Flighty Broad_. Jake's name suggestions amounted to a huge list of things he had bested in combat, and Dirk wanted to fly a ship called the _Houston_ or the _Texas_.

Maybe it was for the better that the naming decision was taken out of the crew's hands. You were just glad to have one last lighthearted moment before leaving Earth. Eating cake in Jane's hotel room and pretending to be exasperated with your new crew's antics, you felt your heart squeeze as your friends laughed around you. Before that night, you hadn't realized how much you had missed them.

Jane, Roxy, Dirk, Jake, and the Auto-Responder. This was the best crew you could ask for after your old one had been slaughtered. You almost wish you weren't so attached to all of them.

 _I can't be the only survivor again,_ you realized. _I don't want to attend four more funerals. Five? Would an A.I. want a funeral?_

Sometime during the celebration, alcohol started flowing. You drank more than you should have.

* * *

You were in Rose Lalonde's mansion again, but this time it was different. On some level you were aware that what you stood in was not a real place-- it was a skewed picture of the real house, the architecture warped into a kind of believable nonsense that only dreams could come up with. You accepted your surroundings with little thought as your feet traced the route of the tour Rose had given you, Roxy, and Jane. The wallpaper was too bright, and the carpeted hallways stretched on for far too long. Zazzerpan was beheaded, his outstretched hand clutching his own defaced skull rather than a granite crystal ball. The smaller wizard statues and paintings were more numerous, their smiles wider and their paint chipped. Colors were more saturated, but details were hazy wherever you looked. Your footsteps did not make noise.

It wasn't long before you broke away from the tour route Rose had shown you. _New house, new rules._ Up grand staircases and through new doors that shouldn't have led anywhere, your path through the house did not make sense, but you tread it all the same. At long last, you halted in front of the craft room. This dream had twisted your memory of it just as the rest of the house no longer seemed to be so safe and normal. The door was ajar and the lights were off, but the room beyond the door wasn't just hidden by shadow. It was missing entirely, an empty void filling its place. You had seen that emptiness only once before-- in the Furthest Ring.

The craft room was not for you to enter, you knew without questioning, so you waited. A cue ball, sized perfectly to fit in the palm of your hand, rolled out of the craft room's void and into the hallway. It came to a gentle stop against the toe of your shoe, the glossy finish catching the hallway lights. Letters floated just below the cue ball's outer shell, but the black text was no longer hidden from your view. Now you could see, unaided, past the cue ball's surface and read exactly what it had to say on the inside. You picked it up, feeling nothing when you held it-- no fear or greed, and none of the heady sense of power that came with being Grimdark under the Horrorterrors' control.

 _ **We've met once before**_ , the cue ball read. 

"Are you driving me crazy?" you asked it. Lucid dreams were a rare occurrence for you, and you were wary that this was the beginning of a lucid nightmare. _Best get this over with_ , you thought.

_**Maybe, but I am making no real effort to affect your sanity. My brothers and sisters above me are interested in making you a pawn, but I am a pawn myself, a servant to their wishes. As I just said, we have met once before. My name is Fluthulu. I am a Smaller God.** _

". . . And my mind is too feeble to withstand your voice," you finished, heart sinking. You remembered exactly what Fluthulu had said to you in the _Skylark_. How could you forget? This was your first nightmare since Rose's exorcism, and it was going to get worse at any moment.

_**From within this dream bubble you may understand my words without hearing my voice, but not for long. You are quickly passing through, and soon you may even leave the Furthest Ring entirely. You don't truly understand what a feat that is. Little flesh sacks like you aren't able to cross universes without help, and some very powerful beings are helping you now.** _

"I'm on Earth. I drank way too much at the _Lover's_ naming celebration and I'm probably passed out on the floor of Jane's hotel room."

_**The dream bubble is muddling both your senses and memory. Horrorterrors lie, but I am not lying now. If you value your sanity and the continued existence of all the living things in your universe, you will listen to me. I carry a message on behalf of the Noble Circle of Horrorterrors. While I am vast to you, they are so far beyond your comprehension that laying eyes on them would be enough to drive you Grimdark. Do you understand me, human?** _

"It is a good fucking thing that this is a dream."

**_The dream bubble is muddling your senses, memory,_ and _sense of self-preservation._**

"It goes against everything I've learned to listen to you." But if this truly was a Horrorterror you were speaking with, a dangerous amount of words had already been exchanged. There was no pain or loss of control on your part, yet. You inspected a hand and a strand of hair, but there was no outward sign that Grimdarkness was creeping in to leech the color and life out of your body.

You weren't one to have lucid _or_ prophetic dreams. You desperately hoped that this bizarre experience was just a mean trick pulled by your own subconscious mind.

_**You are thinking, human, and I will wager a guess that you are skeptical. I cannot read your thoughts because the Seer has banished the Horrorterrors from your mind and sealed off all the entrances into your head. The dream bubble acts as a mostly neutral space for us to communicate with each other. You have some control now, but you will hear my message whether you like it or not. Can your control be taken away? Yes. Can the Seer's defenses be undone? Yes. The Noble Circle has seen fit to reward you with temporary freedom because you have worked so hard for it, and they are amused. This freedom has a price. You will complete a task in Alternia.** _

_**You must do everything in your power to make peace between humanity and the troll race. Loyal to the Alternian Empress is Gl'bgolyb, a Horrorterror emissary of sorts. The faded mockery of a Horrorterror that Gl'bgolyb may be, she has the potential to release the Vast Glub and wipe out the trolls. If her powers are used in a useless war between Earth, Prospit, Derse, and Alternia, the Vast Glub may be released prematurely. Do not let that happen. If you fail, you will wish you were never born.** _

"You want me to make peace with the trolls and prevent both a genocide and a war." Your hands trembled, but you didn't dare loosen your grip on the cue ball. "I already had incentive to do that, thanks."

**_From one pawn to another-- you are not safe. Your unexpected resilience to Grimdarkness has put the human race, but you specifically, under unwanted attention. The Horrorterrors love to play games, but so does the Alternian Empress. There are many players in this game, and you have made yourself a new and shiny source of amusement._ **

"What do I do?"

_**Complete the Noble Circle's task and you may not suffer a fate worse than death. Convince them that you are more entertaining acting under your own free will than you are as an all-powerful slave to their commands. There are eyes watching you, but you are still just a speck of dust in paradox space. Soon they may grow tired of you and cast you aside like a broken toy. Just hope that nobody else comes along to pick you up.** _

"Wow, I-- I'm fucked. In every sense of the word."

**_Few mortals of any race come into such close contact with Horrorterrors and survive. As soon as your vessel leaves the Ring, you will have survived three times. There's something about you that refuses to crack. Use that to your advantage._ **

"You really don't know what it is about me that's so resilient? Aren't you guys supposed to be. . . all-knowing and all-powerful?"

**_I'll be ripped apart if I even so much as hint that Horrorterrors have a weakness._ **

"So you _do_ have a weakness."

**_. . ._ **

**_So many questions. You really haven't learned anything._ **

"I'm not insane yet. I can think clearly, and I'm not hurting-- because we're communicating through the dream bubble."

_**It's even more dangerous to assume than to ask.** _

"If you won't answer any of my questions, I have to assume! Besides, I'm just repeating what you said earlier."

_**. . .** _

_**Humans are always so curious, and that is why they are so easy to corrupt. They ask and we simply answer. Our voices and our knowledge are too overwhelming to behold, and Grimdarkness falls into place easily because of it. If you want to last, you will remember that.** _

**_One other thing. D_ ** **o not** **_speak another word about Horrorterrors to your kind._ **

"What? Why? I think it'd light a fire under all of our asses if the rest of the crew could know about the _Vast Glub_ and _fates worse than death!_ " 

**_This is your task, and not theirs. We have a gift for you._ **

A circular symbol appeared in the cue ball-- black ink blocked out the shapes of tentacles, with an emotionless eye in the center of the tentacle cluster. It reminded you of a flower.

Suddenly, your tongue _burned_ , like someone was pressing a hot brand onto it. You choked on a cry, but tasted no blood.

**_I am simply the Noble Circle's messenger, but I will give you a warning of my own: As much as I dream of mischief against those above me, there is no hope that you will shake anything up. It is better to end things quickly, rather than draw out your suffering._ **

_**Whatever you do, I hope it is entertaining. Goodbye, flesh sack.** _

**_It's time for you to wake--_ **

* * *

"--up. Jesus, are you dead? Did we lose one already? Did you get freezer burned in that Hypersleep pod?"

There was a familiar voice right next to your ear, the first thing that greeted you upon regaining consciousness. Dirk was your friend and all, but freezer burn jokes weren't helping to improve your mood after Fluthulu's dream message.

 _Was that even real?_ you thought. You went to say something, to share Fluthulu's message or tell Dirk to shut up, but you coughed out an ugly croak instead. _Yes. Yes it was. There are worse things the Horrorterrors could have asked for than peace._

You knew before opening your eyes that this wasn't Jane's hotel room, so Fluthulu hadn't been lying about the "dream bubble" skewing your memory. The ship's naming celebration was already in the past, with most of the crew nursing hangovers the next day. Now, Earth's Finest were long gone from their home planet. The _Lover_ was sailing through space.

Slowly, both your recollection and control over your stiff, cold body came back to you. You were sluggish, pissed, and more than a little panicky. Your muscles groaned in agony when you jerked a limp arm, but your limbs felt like jelly and you couldn't reach up to unbuckle the straps crisscrossing around your body. Your eyelids felt heavy, but your first success was opening them.

The Hypersleep pod was basically an upright glass coffin. You hadn't regained full sensation to your arms and legs, but you managed to lift your head just enough to look down at your body. To your relief, everything seemed to be in order, and you let your head flop back onto the headrest. People subjected to Hypersleep were supposed to be perfectly preserved until awoken, but there have been cases where bodies have wasted away, leaving passengers to die in their sleep. The idea of it had always made you nervous, but so far so good despite the fact that your body wasn't cooperating with your need to get up and go.

"Come on, stop struggling. This isn't a reboot you can just shake off, you need to recover from months of inactivity. Your muscles are fine, but you're going to have to wait until they finish waking up. I'm serious, stop. You're flopping around like a fish." The pod was closed, and the dry voice came from speakers on either side of your head. A camera stared into your face from where it was built into the inside of the pod's lid, a tiny red light signalling that you were being watched.

This wasn't Dirk speaking to you. It was the Auto-Responder. _Thanks for keeping me alive, but I am so putting tape over that camera._

"I have to tell Jane--" To speak, it felt and sounded like you were swallowing glass. It was too soon for you to try to kick your body into action, but that's not what made the words die in your throat.

 _\--that I've just had one hell of a dream,_ was what you would have said. For some reason, you couldn't. Your throat closed up, and your tongue would not move to form a sound. You coughed.

"Everybody else is fine, if that's what you're worried about," The AR said. There was a robotic flatness to his voice that Dirk did not have. "You're the last to wake. It's taking a bit longer for you to regain functionality, but I'm telling you that you're going to be completely fine. Just chill for a minute."

"Open the pod, would you?"

"If I open the pod and unbuckle the straps, you're going to fall out. Your feet can't support you yet. You're a sack of meat, and that means you have limits and inconveniences, like having to wait and come out of Hypersleep _slowly_."

"Fine, fine, you're right," you said, forcing yourself to at least try and relax. " _Meat sack_ is gross, don't call me that again. Would you tell Jane something for me?"

 _Horrorterrors have completely derailed my plans for a low-profile._ The words wouldn't come out, and you were left with your mouth awkwardly hanging half-open as you tried to say something, anything you just learned.

". . . Yeah? What is it?"

"I--Nevermind."

"You're most likely going to be fine, like I said. Worst case scenario, your bones turn to jelly and we have to wrap you up like a burrito to keep it all contained. We could still wheel you around so you can see the alien sights, though. It wouldn't kill you."

"Bone jelly hasn't happened since the first Hypersleep test trials. That was a hundred years ago," you said nervously.

"There's a .087% chance it could happen again here. It's low, but never zero."

"Wow, you always know what to say. I feel so much better!"

"Hey, the odds are in your favor. Look on the bright side. We made it out of the Ring, and everybody is still alive and normal-- or what passes for normal with these weirdos."

You froze. "The ship passed through? Did anything happen?"

"There was some weird activity, but nothing was damaged and nobody was hurt. The Horrorterrors were there outside the ship, all right, but my camera and audio got fucked over with static as soon as we entered the Ring. I was blind, but I could still steer and keep an eye on everyone's vitals. The crew remained stable except for you-- your pulse skyrocketed. Did you have a nightmare?"

"Yeah."

"I'll jot that down in the logbook somewhere. It's unheard of for humans to be able to dream at all in Hypersleep, and this is an interesting anomaly. You want to talk about it?"

_The Horrorterrors think I'd put on an entertaining show, so they've saddled me with the impossible task of stopping another Horrorterror from wiping out the trolls._

There was a beat of silence where you tried in vain to express this, but it was no use. You forced a tired grin. "I kinda want to, but I can't. Maybe I will later."

The Horrorterrors didn't want you blabbing to the rest of the crew, and now suddenly there was a filter over anything you said. They had to have regained some control over you, no matter what Fluthulu had said about the Noble Circle granting you "temporary freedom."

You wanted to look at your tongue as soon as possible.

The AR replied, "Alright then, but I'll be here if you ever change your mind. I highly recommend waiting at least an hour before you leave the pod. Would it be easier to relax if I turned off the camera?"

"Yes, please." The red light blinked out, signalling the camera's deactivation. The audio was still on, though, so one last question couldn't hurt. "Just how much time do we have until landing? I want to get a picture of Alternia from space."

"Oh, about 32 minutes and 8 seconds."

Your eyes practically popped out of their sockets. "Let me out right now, AR!"

"I'd shrug if I could. Your choice."

The straps unbuckled themselves with a series of quick _clicks_ , winding back out of sight and no longer caging you. With a slow, dramatic _hiss_ , the pod's lid eased open, allowing fog to billow out into your private cabin. You were finally free to go.

There were no cameras or microphones in any of the cabins except for those the AR used to check in on the Hypersleep pods. They weren't much use for seeing or hearing anything outside the pods, but with the lid open you had a feeling that the AR would be able to hear it if you fell flat on your face.

 _Let's avoid that, then,_ you thought, flexing the fingers on both your hands. _One foot in front of the other. You can do this. No time to waste!_

Carefully, you lifted a wobbly foot and stepped out of the pod.

There was a second of victory. Then your legs buckled beneath you, and before you knew it, you were kissing the floor.

"What?" the AR called. Though it was fainter from your spot on the ground, you could still hear his voice through the pod's speakers. "Did you hear something? It almost sounded like somebody was too stubborn to listen and fell out of the pod! I hope it's not another case of bone jelly!"

"I hate you."

"Oh, no! What if somebody's fallen and they can't get up?"

Your legs weren't cooperating, but your arms were. You batted the pod lid shut, cutting the AR off in the middle of his teasing.

At the moment, the cabin was a square gray room, empty except for you and the Hypersleep pod. Anything else-- a desk, a bed, a set of shelves and drawers-- was designed to fold seamlessly into the walls when not in use. A small touchscreen, located by the door where a light switch would be, controlled it all through a few taps. You couldn't stand up to reach it.

You sighed.

It took some effort to get the pod open again, but you did. ". . . Can you get my furniture out?"

The AR took mercy, and obliged without another taunting word. Metal furniture folded out of the walls, all of it designed purely for function and without any interesting embellishments for aesthetic. Despite the fact that the AR didn't have a physical presence, you could still feel his smug aura as you grumbled out a _thanks_.

Muttering curses all the way, you were able to latch onto a table leg and pull yourself a few feet over to the right, where a set of stainless steel drawers now sat. With more force than necessary, you pulled open one of the bottom drawers and fished around for a small hand mirror. Leaning your back against the wall, you finally took a good look at your tongue.

The symbol Fluthulu had shown you in the cue ball was etched into your tongue with black ink. The tentacle flower's eye stared mockingly back at you in the reflection. The mark was crisp, painless, and most certainly hadn't been there before.

 _I really did think I was free_ , you thought.

You inhaled an angry hiss through clenched teeth.

"Hey, are you okay?" the AR asked.

"Just peachy."

* * *

There were fifteen minutes before the _Lover_ set down onto Alternia, and nobody was even dressed.

As soon as you were able, you burst out of your cabin with a tripod and camera hoisted in your arms. Your cabin was at the end of the hall, and you spared a few glances into the open doors of your friends' rooms as you rushed by. In the middle of strapping pistols to his thighs, Jake looked up to shout a greeting after you. He, at least, had changed out of his golden Hypersleep pajamas and into his black and white BCA-approved uniform. With other priorities in mind, you were still rocking the Dersite purple.

The rest of the crew was up and about, if the shouting and general chaos was anything to go by.

"' _Earth's Finest_ ' my ass!" Jane swore. From the direction of her voice, she was probably in the kitchen, hunched over in front of the open refrigerator. "Dirk! What did we say about putting knives in the fridge?"

"Ah, shit, I'll get to it later!" Dirk shouted back.

"My strife specibus is sitting pretty right in a slew of knives and shitty swords! I'll be damned if you think I'm going to try and reach for it!"

The crew hadn't been put into Hypersleep as soon as the ship launched. From the short time the _Lover's_ passengers were active, the ship began to feel more lived-in, but also somewhat more of a pigsty.

You had your own problems, and paid everyone else little mind as you dashed into the command center. It was far smaller than the _Skylark's_ , but still had the best view of the incoming planet. You went to set up the tripod in front of one of the portholes.

The view was breathtaking. The surface of Alternia was a scarred gray. No blue of water, no white of clouds, though the file you had received before departure assured you that Alternia had both of these things. To you, it looked dead-- how could anything live there?

You caught yourself staring when you should have been working quickly to set up the camera. You kicked yourself into action, hyper-aware of the seconds ticking by. There was no time to waste, and you really didn't want to get these shots of Alternia at the cost of meeting the trolls in your pajamas.

As you worked, you muttered to yourself. "Horrorterror. Horrorterror. _Horrorterror_."

No matter how many times you called their name, no whispers came forth to give you some answers. Both your thoughts and actions seemed to be entirely your own. Things were pretty quiet in your head, but you couldn't trust that, not yet. The Horrorterrors had lurked within the corners of your thoughts for an entire year before Rose flushed them out, and there was always a chance that they had returned and simply gotten better at hiding.

Too bad Rose was light years away, and too bad you knew absolutely _nothing_ about the witchcraft she'd used for the exorcism.

 _You've done it again, [Name]. You always say you're gonna prepare for every possibility, and then you just don't,_ you thought. You were so angry you could spit, because being angry was better than giving into your hopelessness.

In regards for a solution to your current situation, you were drawing a blank. You could, however, do your job and get some shots of Alternia. So that's what you did.

You took more pictures than you usually would have, but this time you weren't taking any careful consideration before each shot. You were hoping that out of all them, at least a few would be up to your standards of quality when you checked later. When footsteps rounded the corner and someone entered the command center behind you, you were in the process of shutting the camera down.

"Morning, Jake," you said, not tearing your gaze away from the task at hand.

"Morning! I wanted to check in on you. We'll reach orbit in a jiffy, so I can stow away your equipment while you go get changed, if you want."

"That'd be great, thanks!"

"Yes, no time to waste. . . Is there anything bothering you?"

You sighed. "Did the AR tell you something?"

"Ah, no, no. You were looking pretty ruffled when I saw you earlier, and erm, tired. If it's nerves, I've got 'em, too!"

You couldn't say anything-- but you could stick your tongue out. Would he recognize the symbol on your tongue for what it was?

Probably not, if you yourself weren't sure. It could be some kind of curse or mark of ownership, and the thought made your blood freeze. Whatever the symbol meant, you were willing to bet that it had something to do with the new filter over your speech. Jane or Roxy, who had been present for your exorcism, would have a better chance of recognizing the mark as being affiliated with Horrorterrors.

But. . . the Horrorterrors didn't want you to tell anyone anything, and had gone to great lengths to make sure you couldn't do just that. You understood far less than you were comfortable with, too. All you had was prior experience with Grimdarkness and some vague guesses on what " _dream bubbles_ " or the " _Vast Glub_ " were. 

Would going against the Horrorterrors' orders doom your friends to suffer the same fate as you, or worse? Your friends had been deemed boring or useless, if the Horrorterrors were paying them none of the special attention they had for you. You doubted that the Outer Gods would care if a couple more humans lived or died.

You didn't want to be a pawn, and were willing to risk making a bad situation worse if there was a chance you could be free. You couldn't risk the lives and freedom of the rest of the crew, though. Freedom couldn't be worth it if you dragged people you cared about down into the very mess you were trying to escape.

So you couldn't tell your friends anything. _For now,_ you promised silently.

"Heh, it's nerves. I'm just worried and a little mad that I woke up late," you told Jake.

"We've all got your back, [Name]! I daresay we have this in the bag. We made it out of the Ring, so that's one obstacle behind us."

Your smile did not reach your eyes. "There's no need to get cocky."

Jake scratched his head sheepishly. "I suppose you're right-- but you'd better run! Don't worry, if you're not ready by the time we touch down, I think we could stall just a little bit."

"Thanks, Jake." You fled the room, heart heavy.

"Ta-ta!"

* * *

There wasn't one specific uniform for Earth's Finest, but rather a dress code. The entire crew had to wear matching shades of pure black and white, no grays or off-whites allowed. The attire had to reach a certain standard of formality, but otherwise it was up to the crew members themselves what clothes they wanted to bring to Alternia. As a last-minute addition, you hadn't the luxury of time to be picky, and simply took what the BCA could get you on such short notice. The wardrobe they landed you with was by no means sparse or unfashionable, though. There was practically anything for any occasion, and you were free to mix and match as you pleased.

With fewer than five minutes until the _Lover_ touched down onto Alternia, you weren't putting much thought into fashion as you rushed to change out of your pajamas. The closet in your cabin was folded out of the wall with both of its doors thrown open, a wetsuit, a white tuxedo, and a black cocktail dress tossed onto the floor in your search for a shirt. Eventually, your hands closed around the fabric of a white turtleneck, and you hardly looked at it before pulling it over your head.

Thoughts of Horrorterrors or the mark on your tongue were shoved to the back of your mind. In a few short minutes, you would finally meet the trolls.

You spotted a white trench coat on the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes, and swept it up as an afterthought. In its pockets went your Monocle, a small notebook, a pencil, and the camera Rose had gifted you. You didn't have much in the way of a strife specibus, but a small pocket knife was slipped into your boot.

From speakers out in the hall, you could hear the AR count down the landing. "30 seconds! 29. . . 28. . ."

"Shit, shit, _shit_ ," you muttered, scanning the floor for an enamel pin the size of a quarter. That was one of the dress code requirements, and the only splash of color the crew would have on their outfits: a pin with the BCA's earth logo and catchphrase, "Peace, Prosperity, Pursuit of Knowledge."

"Aha!" It was laying between the wall and the Hypersleep pod. You slapped it onto the lapel of your coat and left the cabin at a near sprint.

The rest of the crew were crowded around the main doors, toting their signature weapons and looking a little more put-together than you were. Roxy reached out to straighten your BCA pin, and you nodded your thanks with a sheepish smile.

"5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . Ah, fuck it, you get the idea," the AR said. 

The _Lover_ landed with an impact that made everyone sway on their feet.

"AR, could you dim the windows and hold off on opening the doors for a smidgen?" Jane asked.

"What's the magic word?"

"Oh, criminy, _please_?"

"Sure thing, captain."

Jane turned to the the rest of the crew, pushing her glasses up to rub the bridge of her nose. "Alright everyone, a little review? Our goal is to form peaceful relations. No fighting. Be nice. We have been specifically instructed not to start an intergalactic crisis. More secretly, take a gander and find out as much as you can about the trolls, their society, and their planet."

Nods and noises of affirmations all around the room. The air buzzed with anticipation.

"Alright, open the doors when you're ready!" Jane called to the AR.

The doors opened immediately, but it was too soon. Black dust like ash billowed in to choke the room. Dirk cursed the Auto-Responder, but the A.I. did not reply.

Coughing and waving the dust away, you had to wonder if the universe was against any good first impressions the humans might make.

But the air was suitable for human lungs, and when the dust cleared, Earth's Finest stepped out onto Alternia without any further problems. It was the dead of night. The ship had landed in a forest clearing, where twisted trees surrounded you, their colors muted. You heard the crash of waves not far behind your back.

Five people stood in a loose cluster across from the humans, where the edge of the clearing met the rest of the forest. For the most part, the darkness rendered the trolls into vague silhouettes, but you could immediately tell that all of them were bigger and taller than the average human-- and they all had different horns. Your eyes were first drawn to the only one holding a lantern, a finely dressed man in black and violet. Gold glittered around his neck and fingers, catching the lantern light. By his side was an electric blue speargun. Orange horns like lightning strikes swept backwards from his forehead, and he had fins in place of ears.

The other trolls were making a point of standing just outside the lantern's light.

"This whole thing looks a little more cloak-and-dagger than I was expecting," you muttered to your friends. The trolls were standing a dozen yards away and you doubted your low voice would carry that far, but the violet troll's ear fins twitched.

"Maybe they're just shy," Roxy said.

Dirk shook his head. "Shy? They're probably flexing on us. That guy at the forefront has a _lot_ of gold on."

"Gadzooks!" Jake said, not so subtly looking the trolls up and down. "I'll have to get used to not being the tallest fella in the room."

"Well, there's no point in standing around just staring at each other," Jane said. "Come on, let's go say hi." She gave the trolls a wave that was not returned and set off towards them. The rest of the crew followed at her heels.

The trolls met the humans halfway, led by the violet man with the lantern. As the violet man drew closer, you saw the twin scars etched gracelessly across his face. Your eyes could more easily pick out the appearances of the other trolls as they approached right behind him. Everyone wore black accented with another color, different symbols (maybe a personal signature?) incorporated into their outfits. 

The man wearing a blue Sagittarius sign was wound as tight as a spring, gritting his chipped teeth and ducking his head. There was a man and a woman both wearing the same shade of bronze, but you recognized the man's symbol to be the astrological sign of Taurus, while the woman's was more of a circle with a bracket running through it.

They, however, were overshadowed by the sheer size and presence of the troll lumbering at the back of the group.

He was a. . . clown? A sinister clown? His gray face was messily painted in a white design that resembled a skull.

A massive club in each hand, the large clown troll didn't seem to be all that interested in the humans. He yawned, a mouthful of sharp teeth startling you. He wore a matching black vest and armbands lined with purple bones. Twisted horns and a mess of tangled black hair made him seem to be all that much bigger.

You watched him for another glimpse of his interlocking fangs, but his purple gaze met yours and you realized he had caught you staring. He smiled-- or at least bared his teeth. You heard a soft _honk_ , like from a bicycle horn.

Yeah, he was a clown.

The humans and trolls halted with the distance of a few feet to separate them. Jane and the violet troll, the leaders of their respective groups, stepped forward to size each other up. The air was thick with tension, the silence making you want to fidget. Jane, short by human standards, barely came up to the violet man's shoulder. She crossed her arms and tilted her head back to study him, just as unbothered as he was.

"Well, looks like we made it on time," Jane said, the first one to break the silence. "We're Earth's ambassadors. Nice to meet you." 

"Wvelcome to Alternia, travwelers." The violet man's rough voice suited him-- he sounded almost like a pirate. His mouth curled into a half-smile that wasn't exactly friendly. "My name is Orphaner Dualscar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just now scrolling through the Horrorterror wiki fandom page and realizing Fluthulu is smaller than a smaller god, but ssssh I can change things however I want
> 
> This chapter turned out to be SO MUCH LONGER than I thought it would be. Its called Alternia but we only get there at the very end smh. I meant for interaction with the trolls to happen sooner, but it turns out that the next chapter is when the MC starts getting into the thick of things
> 
> Also there's probably going to be continuity errors when it comes to time passing in this fic. I did have a loose plan for how much time passes between major events, but I already see that I'm going to fudge things a little. It shouldn't majorly affect this fic's readability (i hope), and I'll make sure to go back and fix any continuity errors by the time this fic is nearly completed. I'm gonna try to be vague about time from now on. I'm sure you guys are sick of me being an unreliable author, but thanks for sticking around. Yall are the best


	5. Get Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone butts heads with Dualscar. You have a tiny knife and aren't afraid to use it.

**Reader**

_Orphaner Dualscar_ \-- if anyone back on Earth had introduced themselves with a name like that, you would have rolled your eyes. But the violet troll had actual scars as an obvious namesake, and the sharp edges on his violet armor didn't hurt his prickly warrior image. He was really pulling off a villain look-- Did everyone dress like that? Did everyone have names like his, titles earned in battle?

The scars were inflicted long ago, two diagonal slashes starting at Dualscar's forehead and ending at his left earfin. His left eye interrupted the path of the scars, but it seemed to have escaped undamaged. You realized that both of Dualscar's yellow and violet eyes were narrowed in your direction.

He was the second troll to have caught you staring in as many minutes.

"Nice to meet you, Dualscar," Jane said, drawing his attention away from you. "I'm Captain Jane Crocker, and this is my crew." She waved an arm behind her, and the humans went down the line with introductions.

"Roxy Lalonde!"

"Jake English."

"Dirk Strider. And my robot assistant." You could imagine that the AR wasn't very happy with being called that, and Dirk's shades lit up with the wall of red text that was the AR's reply.

You were the last to say your name, giving the trolls a polite nod while reminding yourself not to stare.

The clown troll's canines gleamed when his smile stretched wider. His voice was booming. "We all up and doing introductions? I am the Grand Motherfucking Highblood."

At that outburst, the bronze trolls pointedly took a step away from the Grand Highblood. The bronze man had wide horns like a bull's. Loose threads dangled from the raw hems on his black vest and jeans. Sections of his black hair was dyed red, and matching red streaks lined the front of his pants. His weapon of choice was a lance that was almost as tall as you were, and probably weighed as much as you did, too. He carried the thing in one hand, as easily as you would a shovel.

The bronze woman had horns like a halo, curving around her head and almost meeting in a circle. Messy bangs shielded her eyes-- you didn't know where she was looking. She carried no weapon you could see.

Whoever this man and woman were, they remained silent. 

"I am Executor Darkleer," said the blue troll next, bowing his head so that a length of straight hair fell over his shoulder. His smooth voice did not match up with his appearance or ominous name. Darkleer was a barrel-chested man with horns like arrows. His closely fitted black armor was outlined in blue, and a strange combination of a circuited helmet and reflective shades concealed his expressions.

"Alright. Nowv that wve knowv wvho's wvho, come on," Dualscar said abruptly, propping his blue speargun against his shoulder. He turned on his heel and set off towards the edge of the clearing, shouldering the bronze man out of the way. The bronze man bared his teeth, but Dualscar ignored him.

Jane didn't move, staring at Dualscar's back with narrowed eyes. The rest of the crew exchanged bewildered glances, waiting for the captain to give orders or set an example.

Dualscar stopped when he reached the tree line. Glancing over his shoulder, he rolled his violet eyes when he saw that no one, troll or human, had followed him. "Standing around here at this time of night is a bad idea. I'm trying to avwoid a wvild lusus attack, so followv me and keep up."

"Where are you taking us?" Jane asked.

"My _hivwe_. Where I _livwe_."

"Okey-dokey, there's no need to be snappy about it. I was just asking," Jane retorted, shaking her head. She turned to the rest of the crew, crooking a finger. "Come on, everyone. Let's not dally."

The humans had hardly taken three steps when the Grand Highblood yawned noisily. "I'm not in the fucking mood fo' any lame-ass political prattle," he said. "This is where I bounce."

Dualscar nodded his head once. You supposed that could have been a display of respect or acknowledgement, but he mostly just looked relieved. "Good evwening, Highblood."

"Don't even motherfucking try it. I know you hate my guts, don't cha'?"

"I could nevwer disrespect someone so vwalued by Her Imperious Condescension," Dualscar ground out.

The Grand Highblood barked a laugh. "You're only funny when you're not telling any motherfucking jokes! On behalf of our wicked Empress, make sure you don't go fucking anything else up. Where you're sittin' right now, the Condesce won't even spare you the time of night to cull you herself. _I'll_ do it, and there's this motherfucking bald spot on my ceiling that's been botherin' me for a sweep. Could use some violet."

 _Holy shit._ You didn't understand half of what the Grand Highblood spoke of, but you knew a threat when you heard one. You glanced at Roxy to find her already staring at you. She mimed sipping a teacup.

The Grand Highblood switched both of his clubs to one hand, gripping Darkleer's shoulder from behind. Darkleer stiffened even more, if that was possible. "You stay," the Highblood said.

"Yes, of course, your Excellency," Darkleer replied shakily.

"Miraculous. I'm out." With that, the Highblood sent one last sneer Dualscar's way before stomping out the clearing and disappearing into the night. He went east, while everyone else was left to stand around the clearing's south end. The sound of his footsteps continued longer than the sight of him.

With a whole new flavor of awkward, the silence returned. The air around Dualscar practically heated with the intensity of his suppressed rage.

 _This is off to a bad start,_ you thought.

Wordlessly, Dualscar plunged into the forest, heading south. The undergrowth was crowded with a plethora of thorny plants and twisting leaves in strange colors and textures. The tangled mess as a whole grew up to be taller than any of the humans. With the trolls' general height and size, the undergrowth was less of an issue for them, but you were wary for your own sake. Continuing forward would mean being swallowed up where you wouldn't be able to see anything dangerous until it was already on you.

Jane sighed, the first to follow after Dualscar. A huge fern leaf left in his trail snapped back and would have hit her square in the face if she had been just a little slower to block it with her spoon. She shoved the leaf aside and moved out of sight.

Wherever the captain went, the crew followed. So without any more hesitation, the humans banded together in a close group and ventured into the forest. Darkleer and the two bronze trolls brought up the rear.

Every step of the way, you had to fight against the vegetation. _What was that Dualscar said about a lusus attack?_ you wondered, hissing in annoyance when a thorny bush dragged against your hand. A thin cut bled across the back of your hand-- no major concern, but it still stung.

It was a bit of a hike to get out of the forest, and none of the humans were dressed for that except Jake, for whom an adventurer's outfit was just a staple of his everyday life. Your trench coat, boots, and long pants protected you from the worst of the thorns. Roxy was in high heels, for goodness' sake, so you really had no right to complain.

You glanced back more than a few times, peering between gaps in the undergrowth to see if the trolls at the back were falling behind. In truth, they were faring far better than you were. If they did lag behind, it was safe to assume that it was an intentional effort on their part, to put distance between them and the humans. The last time you looked back, it was just as the bronze man parted some bushes directly behind you. To your embarrassment, you managed to lock eyes with him.

The whites of his eyes were in fact yellow, like what you'd noticed in the other trolls. His irises were a warm brown that matched his sign. He paused, blinking once and looking unsure. You weren't sure what to do, yourself. Unthinkingly, you extended a hand.

This only further confused him, and he stared down at the cut on the back of your hand with an emotion you couldn't place. The shallow wound had scabbed over into a dark red.

You realized that this man was an _alien_ , and that handshakes obviously weren't universal. There was a reason Jane hadn't offered to shake Dualscar's hand! "Oh! Sorry, this is a human greeting. You can take my hand and shake it, um, if you want. I don't know why I expected you to know," you stammered. As you started to withdraw your hand, the bronze man took it. His palm was warm and calloused, covered in scars old and new. He'd seen some fighting.

"I don't know what you mean by shaking it," he admitted.

You felt a smile spread across your face, and the troll's eyes darted to the flat edges of your teeth. That was fine-- it made you feel comfortable to observe him and his alien differences if he was observing yours. "Like this," you said, moving your clasped hands up and down once.

The man repeated the gesture correctly. "Nice!" you said brightly.

It wasn't immediately obvious in the darkness, but the man shifted on his feet and you realized that his cheeks were aglow with a bronze flush that matched his eyes and sign. You wanted to voice your curiosity, but figured that this wasn't the time for it.

"What do they call you?" you asked.

"The Summoner."

"You already know my name. I'm with the ambassadors as a photographer, so that means that I'll be taking pictures of things for documentation. Nice to meet you, Summoner."

"Yeah, we have photographers on Alternia. . . and it's nice to meet you, too. Is that something humans just say to each other?" He shook your hand again, vigorously, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, but this time I mean it. Any special troll greetings I should know about?"

"It, uh, depends. On who you are and if you want to make a strong impression or just go unnoticed. You wouldn't clasp hands with a stranger, though, not unless you want to get stabbed."

"Uh. Oh? Thanks for not stabbing me, then." _Is he joking_? you wondered, but you scrutinized his face and found no evidence of humor-- maybe a little sheepishness, though. 

"Likewise."

"Oh, come on. You could do me in with that lance in a heartbeat," you said wryly.

The Summoner's brows furrowed, and he looked over his shoulder. Darkleer and the bronze woman were audibly coming up from behind, but they were taking their time. The Summoner leaned in, and you were made all the more aware of his height. He loomed over you. "I wouldn't say things like that, if I were you," he said.

"What? It--it was a joke? Sorry if it was in poor taste, I don't mean to offend. I'm down for some friendly strife, but I'm not spoiling for any real fights. It defeats the purpose of our mission: peace."

Bewildered, the Summoner ducked his head, staring at the cut on the back of your hand again. "You're a strange one. . . . so let me give you a word of advice. If you're here because you want something, you can't be so _nice_. You have to be strong, and if you're not, you have to at least _lie_ that you are."

For a solid ten seconds, you couldn't form a reply. _What about you? You seem like you're being pretty nice to me!_

But new planet, new rules. You would judge for yourself if Alternia was really so rough and tough as the Summoner implied, but going forward with your mission, you would still remember his words. If the advice wasn't genuine then you would have to figure out exactly what game the Summoner was trying to play, but if it _was_ , then that presented Earth's Finest with a whole new set of obstacles.

"Thanks for the warning," you said eventually.

"I don't think you get it. That right there is being _nice--_ "

When Darkleer crashed through the undergrowth to come up beside you, Summoner dropped both your hand and the conversation like had it burned him. Darkleer himself sensed that he had just interrupted something, and broke out into a sweat.

You gave Darkleer a strained smile. All three of you stood there awkwardly, avoiding each other's eyes, as the sound of the bronze woman hiking through the undergrowth grew closer.

"Let's wait for her," you said, allowing your odd exchange with the Summoner to go unfinished. Neither Darkleer or the Summoner objected, so the three of you lingered in the same patch of undergrowth for a little longer.

Eventually the bronze woman caught up, and the four of you continued through the forest. You made sure to stay with the group, this time, as Dualscar and the other humans were far up ahead by now and you didn't fancy getting lost. You didn't offer to shake the hands of Darkleer or the bronze woman, worrying that you were already keeping everyone waiting by stopping to do so with the Summoner.

Twenty minutes later, the four of you broke free from the forest. The other half of the group was waiting there, and the rest of the crew welcomed you back with open arms.

"We were worried that something back there nabbed ya!" Roxy said, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

Dualscar muttered something you didn't quite catch, turning away with a twirl of his harpoon gun. Did he think you were weak for lagging behind or something? You shook your head. If he was still in a foul mood, there wasn't anything you could do about it.

Here you had your first sight of Dualscar's hive. It was a hulking, gaudy thing, but it was also an architectural marvel. Fountains and waterfalls flowed over floors stacked up impossibly high. Arching windows and curving balconies allowed many a chandelier to cut through the darkness outside. There was gold absolutely everywhere and no shortage of violet, either. 

The hive sat at the top of a steep incline, and the humans and trolls were at the bottom of it. An intricately built stone staircase led the way to the top, and you could enjoy the craftsmanship despite the fact that you were going to have to climb its ridiculous number of steps. 

Roxy sighed, looking woefully down at her heels. You grimaced sympathetically and patted her on the back.

Dualscar was using an arm to make dramatic, sweeping gestures towards the house on the hill, like he was trying to showcase fine art. Unbeknownst to him, there was a small thorny twig caught onto the back of his cape. _Should I tell him?_ Before you could work up the nerve, he turned slowly and said in a grand tone, " _Wvelcome to my hivwe_." 

There was a pause.

"Nice," Jane said flatly. Dirk was trying not to laugh. Roxy started a polite golf clap, and you made a vaguely approving hum. Jake just forced his best lopsided smile; he always found untouched nature to be more dazzling than anything man-made could be, so he would have been a hard one to impress regardless.

Dualscar faltered for just a second. You supposed that he had been expecting shock and awe. And, yeah, the hive was luxurious and expensive-looking even from far away (leagues better than your apartment back on Earth was). Could you appreciate it, even if it was a little gaudy for your taste? Yes. Were you about to give Dualscar the satisfaction of knowing that? No. You hardly knew the guy, but his ego seemed to be big enough already.

 _Oh, but it's too early to be petty_ , you reprimanded yourself. _Make a good first impression. Do it for the sake of humanity._

"The hive is very impressive," you amended out loud. "I'm sure the interior is even better."

Dualscar turned his back on you. "I knowv it is. Wvell, come on. Dinner wvill be servwed, and I'll let the lot of ya blabber awvay wvith your questions, then."

You allowed yourself a _little_ pettiness. Whenever he found out about the twig on his cape, it wouldn't be from you.

Dualscar set off up the stairs, without warning or stopping to wait, but that was to be expected at this point. You caught Jane rolling her eyes, and she put on a burst of speed to match his pace. "Will the Empress be there?" she asked.

Dualscar snorted. "No. She's off-planet."

". . . Okay. Why?"

"Because she's alwvays off-planet, conquering for the expansion of the Alternian Empire. Nothing's been important enough to make 'er return for swveeps. I doubt she'll hurry back just to look dowvn on you small fry."

"Then what was the point of sending an invitation?" Jane snapped.

"The Empress does wvhat she wvants, wvhen she wvants. You'll be better off remembering that."

"I'm going to choose to believe that the Empress is a better ruler than you're painting her out to be. Why would she be scared of _us_? She asked humanity to show up and talk peace, so I have no reason to believe that she'll go back on her word until she proves otherwise."

"I--She--She's not scared of you, not wvhen she's the most powverful troll in this univwerse! You havwe no idea what yer saying, and talking like that, you'll be culled. I, by no means, am painting her out to be less than what she is."

"If she's so high and mighty, then she'll have no problem confronting a couple ambassadors led by _Lil' ol' me_. If you have any inkling of when that might be, it'd be helpful if you'd share the information!"

"Twvelth Perigee's Evwe," Dualscar ground out. "There wvill be a ball. She'll hold court wvith you then, and if I wvere you, I wvouldn't wvaste my time hoping she'd arrivwe early and lowver herself to meet wvith ya sooner."

"When's the ball?"

"In a couple Perigees. I'm fucking stuck wvith ya until then."

"How long is a Perigee?"

"Wvhat did I say about wvaitin' until dinner? You can bother me wvhen I have a full stomach."

"How long is a Perigee, Dualscar? A month? A _year_? I think this would count as something significant enough to get straight before your damned dinner!"

"I havwe no idea howv your alien calendar matches up wvith the Alternian one! Shut your trap before I do it for you, ya needling little land-pest."

"Listen here, you self-righteous piece of shit _tuna_ \--"

"--wvhat the fuck--"

"--don't you _dare_ \--"

And it just escalated from there. The rest of the group watched in horrified awe from the bottom of the stairs, making no move to get closer to the cluster fuck that was unfolding before your very eyes.

"So . . . everyone," you said quietly. Jane and Dualscar paid you no mind, slowly ascending the stairs and increasing the volume of their argument as they went. The rest of the company heard you, though. "How do you think we're going to de-escalate this situation?"

"Before they grab their weapons?" the Summoner offered. Even as he crossed his arms in irritation, there was a weary resignation to the slump of his shoulders. Did Dualscar regularly brew fights like this?

You didn't ask, instead saying, "Yup. I think it's in everyone's best interest if my captain doesn't come to blows with your. . . leader? Is Dualscar the head troll around here or something?"

"In a way. As far as the Hemospectrum goes, he outclasses all of us. And that _is_ his hive we'll be staying at. Darkleer is just a guest, but you'll be seeing more of me and Cinyie around." The Summoner nodded towards the bronze woman. "Meet Cinyie Ukkeut. We were employed as, uh. . ."

"Bodyguards, henchmen, whatever is needed," Cinyie finished for him. Her voice was low and toneless. She brushed her bangs aside, not taking her eyes off of Dualscar and Jane. She was watching them go at it with a focused glee that made you slightly uneasy. "But I think it would be out of our station to step in. Dualscar is a violet blood, one of the highest castes there is. If he wants to fight, I guess we'll just let him fight."

Darkleer was sweating profusely. He said, "Ah, I must agree. Dualscar will be the victor, in the end, and it would be better not to cross him."

"Excuse me?" Dirk piped up. "Jane is about ready to rip that dude a new one."

Darkleer said, "I don't doubt that she will try, but you must understand. As a highblood, Dualscar has biological advantages that others do not have. And, er, your captain is carrying a. . . spoon? Dualscar, even if not for the superiority of his blood color, has a laser harpoon gun."

"Listen--Darkwheel, was it? Jane goes _batshit,_ I'm talking _bananas_ , when she gets heated," Dirk said. You were shaking your head and shooting Dirk dirty looks, but he just kept on talking. "Dualscar's gotten her pretty shaken and stirred, so we gotta step in because it'd be hella rude if we had to dig a grave out in this man's own backyard." 

Roxy shrugged. ' _Is he wrong?_ ' she mouthed at your betrayed look.

"Dualscar is a _violet_ blood," Darkleer said slowly. "Your captain can't be that STRONG. You are about to be proven wrong in the worst possible way--"

"--One of us is, and it's not gonna be me--"

"Both of you, _shut up_ ," you and the Summoner said in unison.

Surprisingly, everyone obeyed. Everyone except Jane and Dualscar, of course.

"It doesn't matter who would win, because it'd be a disaster if they strife in the first place," you continued in the resulting silence. "Sit tight for a minute. I'll be right back."

" _Maybe_ you should really stop and think about what you're getting into," Cinyie said, eyebrow raised. She was absentmindedly chewing a long, curved nail between her equally sharp teeth.

"You're not going to stop me. You're interested in what's going to happen," you replied with a wry smile.

Before you even finished the sentence, you were already marching off towards Dualscar and Jane. Your hunch about Cinyie was right, and she stayed put with a hand on her hip. Darkleer's weak protests were easily ignored, and he didn't follow you, either, for fear of getting caught in the crossfire or facing Dualscar's ire himself. As for your human friends, they trusted you to know what you were doing, and they probably wanted a good show as much as Cinyie did.

By the time you reached the foot of the stairs, Summoner had caught up with you easily. He met your sideways glance with a half-smile. "I'll get Dualscar, you get your captain," he said, matching you step for step. You nodded.

"This planet wvon't be kind to a soft, wveak thing like you. I don't think you realize wvho has the powver, here," Dualscar was saying to Jane as you and the Summoner drew nearer.

Dualscar and Jane were at a standstill. She stood with her arms crossed on a few steps above him, so that even with their height differences, they could sneer at each other eye-to-eye. The lantern sat abandoned on the stairs by Dualscar's feet.

"What, I should just stand back and let you have your temper tantrum?" Jane fired back. "Something tells me you aren't put into many situations where you have to show some basic decency. With that stick up your ass, why did the Empress put you in charge of hosting us?"

"I'm actually a kinder example of wvhat kind of _hospitality_ Alternia has to offer!"

"Good golly, is that so? It seems to _me_ that you just went and landed yourself in hot water with some bigwigs higher up on the chain of command, and babysitting us humans is a punishment of some kind. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, though!"

You broke out into a run when Dualscar's gray hand reached for his weapon. He was fast to draw, but you were quicker-- the blue tip of the harpoon gun pointed not at Jane's chest, but yours. 

"I think that's enough," you said evenly.

Against your hopes, Dualscar did not falter when you put yourself between him and your captain. Finger held loosely against the trigger, he regarded you like he would an interesting bug. "That's some nervwe ya got there, but the effect is ruined wvhen I can see ya shaking in your boots."

"Wait. You think I'm afraid? Of you?" you asked.

You thought of exorcisms, cue balls, dream bubbles, Horrorterrors, the Furthest Ring, the loss of your freedom and the deaths of people you worked alongside and cared about. These were things you feared. Dualscar was just an overgrown brat with a big, shiny gun he used too carelessly. Yes, he was a danger . . . but he couldn't compare to the things you had already faced, the things you were still facing in your nightmares.

A laugh bubbled out of you. "Hahahaha! No! You're _nothing_!" you managed through bouts of somewhat delirious giggles.

You were shaking in your boots, that much was true. But it was adrenaline and laughter making you jittery as you stood there with your back straight and arms loose at your sides. Even if there wasn't much you could do with it, your hand inched towards the boot in which your pocket knife was slipped into (ha, bringing a knife to a gun fight).

Now Dualscar hesitated, but it didn't last long. His lip curled in anger-- but he did not pull the trigger. The tip of a lance pressed into his throat.

"I thought you were trying to regain favor with the Condesce. Culling her guests would hardly be the way to go about it," the Summoner said, grip on his lance relaxed but firm.

"Stand down, rustblood. You're my bodyguard, remember?"

"Do those fins of your affect your hearing? Violet blood won't save you when the Condesce finds out you've gotten so trigger-happy with the human ambassadors! I'm not that worried about _you_ , but punishment would probably fall to me, Cinyie, and Darkleer as well, just for the fact that we're here as witnesses."

"Like these humans wvere evwer going to leavwe this planet with their livwes."

"That is for the Condesce to decide. By her order, I have full permission to cull you if you step out of line. The line is dangerously close to being crossed."

You looked back and forth between Dualscar and Summoner, feeling like you were watching a tennis match that happened to have your life on the line. Now wasn't the time to voice it, but you were _surprised_ with the Summoner's sudden swagger. He was different now, confident and unyielding, not the same man who had shaken your hand in the forest.

"I cull them, ya cull me, and then the Condesce culls you because she likes to tie up loose ends that wvay," Dualscar laughed. "Nobody wvins."

The Summoner tilted his head. "Are you drunk?"

"Nah, but I plan on gettin' there as soon as possible." With an exaggerated sigh, Dualscar lowered his gun. The Summoner didn't lower his lance, but Dualscar turned his head to better look at the bronze man anyway. "You and me should strife for _real_ sometime, eh?"

The Summoner wrinkled his nose. "No."

"Jegus, are you planning on black-flirting with _everyone_ tonight?" Cinyie called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Like I'd evwer look twvice at you," Dualscar sneered in reply.

Cinyie ignored that, motioning up to the starry sky. "Do you guys realize just how close it is to sunrise? We're wasting moonlight, and I don't fancy cutting it close just because Dualscar wants to rebound from Mindfang. Anyway, I'm fucking hungry, what about that dinner?"

"Wvhy don't you say that ag--" Dualscar was cut off with a wince when the Summoner jabbed the lance a little harder into his throat.

The Summoner said, "I. Do. Not. Want to auspisticize. Let's put an end to any strife and hate right now. And Cinyie's right about the time, we'd better head inside."

Dualscar glanced up at the sky and dragged out a sigh. "Wve'vwe got a couple hours o' darkness, yet. Stop actin' like we're seconds awvay from burning up."

Cinyie continued at a shout. "It's two hours at most! Let's pretend this little scene never happened and move on with our miserable lives! If the Condesce finds out about this, we all get put on the chopping block. Lips sealed, everyone?"

"Lips sealed," Dualscar said petulantly.

You were getting restless, and leaving this confusing shit-show behind sounded like a good idea. _Time to abscond,_ you thought.

"We'll just go up ahead and let ourselves in," you blurted. "See you at dinner."

You grabbed Jane's hand and herded her up the stairs, making sure to position yourself between her and Dualscar at all times. Jane went along with your plan smoothly, jerking her head at Roxy, Dirk, and Jake. They scurried past the trolls to follow you up the stairs.

The trolls remained where they were, to squabble among themselves or " _black_ - _flirt"_ , you didn't know.

As you and your friends hightailed it all the way up to Dualscar's hive, Cinyie's voice grew distant at your back. The last thing you caught her saying was, "Lips sealed, _right_ , Darkleer?"

* * *

After the hill was scaled and Earth's Finest as a whole stood huffing and puffing outside Dualscar's front door, all it took was a cursory glance to see that the hive's entrance was as needlessly extravagant as you had expected. Tall enough to fit the Grand Highblood's towering bulk with plenty of room to spare, huge double doors were positioned between two marble columns. The doors were carved out of a similar white marble to match, etched with elegant oceanic designs and inlaid with precious stones. The doors looked heavy and solid, a bitch to move, but all five crew members working together could probably manage it. No one made any move to try yet.

From where you were standing, Dualscar's hive looked like a mermaid palace. It wasn't what you would have expected from a brat wearing spiky armor, even if he did seem to be a sea-dweller troll of some kind.

Speaking of trolls, Orphaner Dualscar, the Summoner, Cinyie Ukkeut, and Executor Darkleer were just small specks at the bottom of the stairs. They had yet to follow the humans up the hill, and if you squinted, you could make out some lively arm gestures for what was probably a lively argument.

Jane was leaning against one of the marble columns, observing the trolls with crossed arms. Lost in thought for a minute or two, she tapped her spoon in a quick, erratic rhythm against her arm. Her temper seemed to have cooled, but only somewhat. "Okay. We all have something to say, but it looks like Jake is about to burst so he might as well go first," she said.

Jake swiveled over to face you, planting his hands on your shoulders and giving you one good shake. "Listen. I'm a fella that enjoys foolhardy acts of bravery as much as the next. But. _The piece of machinery Dualscar's waving around is a laser gun_. That means that a blast fired from it might have very well gone straight through you and into Jane! You both would've been goners!"

"Oh," you said dazedly. "So I might've sacrificed myself for nothing."

"Yes! Jiminy cricket, yes!"

Jane apparently decided she had heard enough. She pushed off of the marble column and came striding towards you, motioning for Jake to step aside.

 _Here it is, a reprimand,_ you thought. _Funny, I'm used to being the one giving those out._

Jane halted in front of you, reached out a hand. . . and awkwardly brushed a thorny twig off of your shoulder. "Thank you, for looking out for me like that," she said gently. "But I can't have you dying to try and save me from my own foolishness! I don't regret standing my ground back there, but the name-calling I did was a bit much. Things got a tad. . . out of hand. . . and I didn't really make the situation any better."

"Dualscar pulled a gun on you for what were basically schoolyard taunts. I know I'm biased, but I'm pretty sure he started it in the first place," you said.

"That he did!" Jane said with a huff of renewed anger, but she made a mostly successful effort to try and compose herself. "What I'm saying is that things got out of hand, but I'll admit to my share of the blame. If he hadn't drawn his weapon first, I would have, and then it would have been a lance at my throat instead of his. Just _please_ don't go jumping out in front of me to get blasted by lasers!"

"Jane, not only are you my captain, you are my friend. I want to keep all my friends safe," you said stubbornly. "Just consider us even. I remember what you and Roxy did for me in Rose's craft room. You guys got between me and Rose, and shielding me like that helped me snap out of wanting to kill everyone."

"That was different! I was pretty sure Rose wouldn't have blasted me into oblivion if I got in her way. If she _had_ , well, then I doubt she would have been able to get away with the murder back on Earth. As for Dualscar, we don't know that much about him or what he can get away with here on jolly 'ol Alternia. _[Name],_ as your captain, I'm ordering you not to martyr yourself."

". . . Okay."

"You can't fool me, dear. Hoo, hoo, you have that scheming look on your face that tells me you are completely prepared to disregard my order."

"Look-- _ugh_ \-- okay, but what am I supposed to do if something like that happens again? Stand by and let you get lasered?"

"Yes, I suppose. No sense in both of us being harmed."

"But--Jane, you're the _captain_!"

"My life isn't any more important than yours," Jane said, still using that _infuriatingly_ calm tone. "You need to look out for yourself-- and the same goes to the rest of you, ya hear me?"

"That's. . . stupid!" you sputtered. "I'm not letting you die! I'm not letting anyone die if I can help it!"

Jane pulled you into a hug. "Nobody's going to die! We're a pretty sturdy bunch. Look, er, next time I'm not going to rise to Dualscar's bait. I'll refuse to engage! If he's being difficult, we simply won't bother wasting our time with him. . . And if I ever do start acting like a hothead in a situation that doesn't call for it, feel free to give me a little nudge to snap me out of it."

Roxy said, "If Dualscar does end up pulling a weapon on one of us out of nowhere, I guess we'll just have to beat him up. I think we could pull it off pretty easy."

Dirk nodded. "A team-building exercise."

You shook your head, patting Jane's back before breaking the hug. "You know, I'm starting to think that maybe the Director was right about a couple things she said about you guys. . ."

Roxy laughed.

"Oh, dear, was she talking shit again?" Jane asked.

You sighed, trying to fight off a grin. "Never mind that, let's talk about our plan of action. Jane, you just want to. . dance around Dualscar for the whole time we're staying here? Kiss his ass until we can meet the Empress? There's something fishy going on here, pun intended."

"No, I don't plan on kissing anyone's bum! I just agreed not to fight him." Jane looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll challenge Dualscar to some fair strife, if that's what it takes to get him to listen to us, but we still are guests on this planet and we have to play by Alternia's rules for now-- we don't know those rules, of course, but I think it'd be safe to assume that brawling is frowned upon. We're just going to have to do some old-fashioned detective work and come up with a plan as we go along. We just got here, after all!"

Jake pushed up his glasses and jerked his head down to the trolls at the bottom of the hill. "If it's any comfort, the fellas down there are taking just as long to deliberate as we are. Everyone's a bit clueless, mate."

"The one thing we should agree on right now," Jane said resolutely, "Is that we aren't going to make any unnecessary sacrifices. Being noble is good, but being alive is better."

Naturally, you wanted to keep arguing-- but so far the night had been full of nothing _but_ arguing, and it wasn't doing any good. Your shoulders drooped in time with a sigh. "Okay. Okay, fine, I see it your way."

"For clarity's sake, repeat what you're agreeing to," Jane asked, not without humor.

" _Okay_ , I'll try not to jump out in front of lasers. Or martyr myself."

Jane clapped you on the back. "Wonderful! Now, everyone, I think we all should join Dualscar for dinner tonight. We'll needle as much information out of him as we can while keeping things civil. I'll rein in my temper." Jane grinned ruefully. "And I'll ask everyone else to do the same. Sound good, team?"

Jake grumbled, "So long as we can make Dualscar agree to ' _No guns at the table_ '."

"You have never abided by that rule in your life and I doubt that you will after this," Dirk said to Jake. "Our chances of convincing Fish Dick to go along with it are looking pretty slim."

"What else can we do?" Jake asked. "We certainly can't trust the way he's pointing his gun willy-nilly at whoever he wants! It's such a shame he's manhandling such a beautiful weapon like that. . . boy, I'd love to take a look at it and figure out how that thing ticks. Wonder if it has a name? All weapons worth anything have names. . ."

"We can steal it for you, and then you can name it whatever you'd like."

"I'm down for both theft and dinner if everyone else is. But, y'know, I have a gun of my own," Roxy said, patting her rifle lovingly. "I had you guys covered back there. If our buddy Dualscar _had_ toasted Jane and [Name], he wouldn't have lived to see the victory."

Jane said, "Thanks, Roxy. Hold it on the theft. I'm not saying no, but I'm not saying yes. It's a firm _maybe."_ She looked to you again. "Any thoughts?"

You said, "Dinner now, theft later. Sounds good."

* * *

It took a while, but eventually the trolls broke their conference and made their way up the steps. Earth's Finest were there to halfheartedly greet them at the door. Jane, standing at the forefront of the human group with her arms crossed, displayed her phoniest smile.

 _Well, at least she's trying_ , you thought hesitantly.

Cinyie was one of the first to reach the summit, the lantern now in her hands. The glow of it made her bronze eyes shine. "Oh, you're still here," she said tonelessly. She glanced at you and flashed a sharp grin. "Not too rattled, I hope."

"Not too rattled," you replied.

When Dualscar stomped up to the front door, Jane's eerie smile stretched wider.

"Get out of my wvay," Dualscar muttered darkly. He wasn't carrying the harpoon gun anymore, the Summoner seemed to have confiscated it, but you still tensed at Dualscar's every movement.

" _Why, hello again!_ I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier," Jane greeted as if he hadn't spoken, falseness coating every sugary word. She stuck out a hand. "What do you say to a do-over? Where I'm from, this is an offer of goodwill."

Dualscar's eyes narrowed. "Goodwvill."

"Yeah. Goodwill."

"Wvhat the fuck is that--"

"Don't even start, dagnabbit! Having goodwill towards someone just means that you don't have _bad will_ towards them!"

"I find that hard to believwe."

". . . Fair point. _Okay_. I don't want to kill you, Dualscar, and I would prefer it if you wouldn't go around trying to kill _me_. Can we agree on that, at least?"

Dualscar dragged a hand down his face, snarling like this back and forth was causing him severe mental pain. Which, to be fair, it probably was. "Fine, wvhatever. I agree to your goodwvill hoofbeastshit. Let's not kill each other. I'm exhausted."

Jane said, "Great. Let's seal the deal." She glanced down at her still-outstretched hand meaningfully.

Dualscar just squinted at her with a fresh wave of exasperation.

"It's called a handshake," the Summoner interjected helpfully. "You're supposed to shake the hand."

"But if you stab her, I'll have to stab you back!" you added quickly.

Jane snapped her fingers and pointed to one of the marble pillars. Various Strife Specibi were propped up against its base: Jake's pistols, Roxy's rifle, Jane's spoon, and your tiny knife. "Oh, speaking of stabbing--I think leaving our weapons behind would help our little truce. We humans went ahead and already did so. If I wanted to thwack you now, it would have to be with my bare fists."

Dualscar raised an eyebrow. "Evwen if we all stripped ourselvwes of our wveapons, it wvouldn't do much to evwen the odds if I _wvere_ to fight one of ya little humans."

"What do you have on us, huh? Height?" Jane challenged.

"Yes, and muscle. Refinement. Blood superiority. Self-preservwation."

Jane threw back her head and laughed. "All good things to have, I'm sure. Since you have all of those dandy qualities to help you out, can't you and your fellows agree to ' _No weapons at the table?'_ "

The Summoner cleared his throat loudly. "Sounds like a great idea. It'll make my job easier."

Cinyie shrugged. "Well, then I guess I have to say yes."

All eyes went to Darkleer next. Whether it was from peer pressure or a desire to keep the peace, he nodded quickly.

Once more, Dualscar dragged a hand down his face and winced from some severe mental pain. "Fine. Fine. Ahab's Crosshairs wvon't be making an appearance at dinner, so there's no need to keep wvhining. I'm not fucking leavwing it out here for anyone to steal, though-- it's goin' inside, where it belongs." Stiffly, he stuck out his right hand for Jane to shake.

Jane did so, her eyelid twitching at the strength of Dualscar's grip. "Glad we could come to an agreement," she said slowly. "Now let go of my hand. Don't think I haven't realized how badly you want to crush it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Online school has been hitting me pretty hard, so I'm just going to have to write less until my workload lessens. I've just been pretty tired lately, but I have no intention of abandoning this fic. This story has always been pretty self-indulgent, and it's exciting that other people enjoy it, too. As always, thanks for reading!
> 
> There's going to be an enemies to lovers kind of thing with Dualscar and the MC. Over time, the next trolls to be introduced will be the Handmaid, Redglare, and Mindfang. Cinyie is an oc character that's going to have a minor role in the story, like the Director did. I'm sure you've noticed, buut I like slow-burn romance.
> 
> My fanfic tumblr is: https://lumicrystallines.tumblr.com/  
> Tbh since I haven't had the energy for writing, it's become mostly reblogged memes. Feel free to swing by the ask box. I'm also open to some constructive criticism when it comes to the characterizations of the alpha kids. Happy Halloween, guys :)


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